


When Darkness Drifts

by InsaneSociopath



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: A wild Spock finally appears!, Adoption, And yet I regret nothing, Epilogue, Gen, Ilness, Kid Fic, No Spock yet..., No major character deaths, Pre-Canon, Starvation, Tarsus IV, Tavek got out of hand, The epilogue is an entire fic on its own lol, Young Jim, character deaths left right and centre, genuinely it's just 9k of feels, injuries, still no spock i'm afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneSociopath/pseuds/InsaneSociopath
Summary: It was supposed to be a fresh start.But then the screaming started, and even though Mr Pike is gripping his hand tight, he cannot help but be terrified all over again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna write this as one long one-shot, but then the fic decided to split itself up without my permission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the idea behind this first section is that Sam ran away much earlier than in canon, so Jim has been on his own quite a while...

He kicks the pebble further down the road.

It’s small; a pale muddy beige colour. Probably dolomite, just like most of Riverside’s underlying bedrock. That’s all there is round here. Dolomite, shale, and a couple of outcrops of sandstone on the other side of the English River. 

It’s no wonder, Jim thinks to himself, that everything round here is so flat.

Flat and boring. 

Pretty much like his life to be honest.

School sucks, being at home sucks.

Everything sucks.

He walks further along the edge of the verge, following the path of the small rock. Dust stirs up in his wake; not great billowing clouds, but small scatters that barely rise above his ankles. It settles quickly behind him, not quite erasing his footprints, but certainly obscuring the evidence of his passage.

If only he could obscure his life in a similar manner. 

God, he hates it. The weird way everyone treats him just because of the name he carries. Like he’s simultaneously special and not at all worthy of praise. His teachers, the other kids at school, strangers on the street; no one ever acts like he’s just another kid, one who is noteworthy by his own deeds alone.

No, it’s always George Kirk this, and George Kirk that. Make your father proud, live up to the family legacy, remember you’re the son of a hero. Kirk, Kirk, Kirk. 

No-one ever seems to think about the fact that the only things Jim got out of this whole hero deal is a dead father, an absent mother, a brother who hates him, and a hundred expectations that literally no one could ever hope to live up to.

He just wants to be a normal kid. Live a normal, happy life. Two supportive parents, a brother who cares, and a dog or three. Maybe a fish tank.

Is that too much for a ten-year-old to wish for?

Apparently.

* * *

He arrives at the end of his long driveway with a heavy heart. 

The old dark grey duramac is in a bad state of disrepair, with more potholes than smooth surface visible. The dying yellow grass on either side is long and overgrown after too many years without tending, the aged wooden fence posts just visible within the mess beginning to rot and collapse.

Jim prays that Frank has already gone out for the evening.

Sighing deeply, he scrubs the toe of his right boot through the dry dirt once more and hitches his rucksack further up his shoulder. 

Then he sets off towards the dilapidated farmhouse he unfortunately calls home. 

It only takes him two minutes before he arrives at the yard gates. Both are broken, with the left one removed from its hinges entirely and left leaning on the remains of the fence in the grass. He pauses here, and peers critically at the muck-coated windows of the house, trying to discern whether or not any of the lights are on or if any of the windows have been set to black out. 

Satisfied that the house is most likely empty, he then beelines for the front door, affectionately skritching the ears of the mangy barn mousing-cat as he passes her. A moment later he’s in reach of the access panel, and he quickly presses his palm to the print reader and taps in the five-digit access code. 

As soon as it beeps in confirmation, he darts in through the now open doorway silently and then pauses again, listening intently. Once the door has slid shut behind him and he is certain that he is indeed home alone, he pads quickly into the kitchen. 

A substantial stack of unwashed dishes and glasses stand in the sink, the tap dripping constantly down atop them. The countertops to either side are slightly more clear of pots and unclean cutlery, but crumbs and grime coat the surface. The floor, unswept and unmopped for god knows how long hardly bares thinking about, and Jim is glad Frank has long since stopped caring about Jim’s unwillingness to remove his footwear when inside.

With caution born of too many previous… _mishaps,_ he glances side to side critically before he dares approach the fridge, wary that Frank may have left another device designed to alert him if Jim goes rummaging for food. But he can see no Cam devices, no audio recorders, and no suspiciously moved or repositioned piles of junk. 

He pulls his battered old Padd out of his bag once he’s sure that he’s safe and loads up his usual decryption programme. Setting it to scanning the lock on the fridge door and then leaving it to run, he grabs the loan chair from by the kitchen table and uses it to carefully climb up to the top pantry door. His Padd beeps with today’s lock code deciphered just as he finishes picking the antiquated padlock off the cupboard, and he allows himself a small relieved smile when he’s greeted with a welcome sight upon opening the door. 

Frank has somehow found both the motivation and the credits to substantially stock up at some point today, so there are rows and rows of non-perishable goods arranged haphazardly upon the shelves. Not quite believing his luck, Jim carefully lifts out a several tins of soup, meats and vegetables from the middle of each shelf, being careful to leave the front two rows undisturbed. They go straight into his rucksack, alongside a couple of packets of dried crackers, a four pack of blue Gatorade, and a new jar of orange marmalade.

Then, with the same slow and careful movements he used to pick it open, he shuts the door and clicks the padlock back on.

Once he’s moved the chair to stand next to the fridge, he snatches his Padd back up and quickly taps in the code displayed on its screen into the fridge panel. His unbelievable good luck seems to have run out though, because there’s nothing inside but several dozen bottles of cheap beer, half a block of suspiciously green cheese, and what might once have been a bag of fresh lettuce. 

But no matter; he’s already managed to collect far, far more food than he was expecting to.

His Padd goes back in the bag with his stash once he’s ensured the fridge code won’t reset to a new sequence upon closing the door, and he zips back towards the front door and then up the stairs on near silent feet.

The door to his tiny room remains in the slightly ajar position he left in this morning, and he smirks to himself again as that means Frank hasn’t been rummaging around his stuff again today. Sliding the secret panel in the base of his wardrobe open quickly, he empties the contents of his rucksack into the hidden space neatly, and then finally allows the knot of fear that’s been lodged in his throat since he left school to unwind. 

He’s safe from starving most of the way to death again.

At least temporarily.

He chuckles humourlessly to himself as he sits cross-legged on his floor.

* * *

Jim has a plan.

A simple plan.

One that, in previous centuries when poverty was far more rife on Earth than it is today, was used frequently by a wide variety of people.

Jim is going to get the best imaginable grades at school and college, and then escape this legacy-overshadowed life by making his own name more recognisable than his father’s. 

The plan is not going too badly considering that his school is not exactly helping him along. Despite his best efforts, he’s only been allowed to skip one grade, and no matter how well he does all his classwork, assignments and how high he scores on his tests, his reports always come back with comments such as “barely adequate” and “could achieve more if he used the intelligence he was gifted with”.

But as his mom has been MIA from Iowa for going on three years now, and Frank could never be expected to be anything other than a detriment, all he can do is grit his teeth and try to work around the system in his own time. He’s signed himself up to a couple of online schools and gotten himself access to some online college libraries, so he can poke about in journals and publications. Had to lie about his age obviously, and he omitted his last name from the applications by only giving his first and middle name. 

But access, he has.

He’s sat on his bed right now, his main Padd resting on his knees and open to his usual school homework. He like to get it done and out of the way as soon as possible so that he can spend the rest of his time working on more advanced and interesting subjects. His other, smaller Padd is resting next to him, the cracked screen showing a grainy view of where the driveway meets the road so that he hopefully has some advanced warning of Frank arriving back home. 

A load of his washing is going round in the battered, worn out refresher in the outside laundry outhouse right now after all. The last thing he wants is for Frank to get back to the house before he’s had time to sprint out and retrieve it. 

So.

The hidden Cam at the end of the drive. Formed of scraps salvaged from the school’s techshop and people’s trash cans in town.

He glances once again at the Cam feed, before going back to ticking off the last of the beginner’s level planetary classification science for school. With that tedious task finally out of the way, he then logs into his Davison-Laurel Academy account and pulls up the next maths module. 

“The answer is X is equal to the square root of y, over Z cubed plus 10i,” Jim says clearly half an hour later, grinning when the programme comes back a second later with a 100% score for the lesson. Stars, he knows it makes him a total nerd, but there’s just something about mathematics that he just loves. Perhaps that its almost entirely based on common sense and logic, that there’s hardly ever any unexpected surprises. Nothing to jump out and catch you off guard.

If he’s being perfectly honest with himself, the only three things Jim likes more than maths, are food, warmth, and reading new planetary discovery reports. 

And as obtaining any one of those three can quite often be quite challenging, Jim is usually quite content to settle for a nice bit of maths.

* * *

“BOY!”

Jim cowers under his covers.

The sheets are freshly washed, some slight warmth from the dry-cycle still trapped with in the worn-soft fibres. They smell faintly of small amount of fabric conditioner he allowed himself to add to the cycle. 

“BOY!” Frank shouts drunkenly again, clattering around as he staggers unsteadily into the kitchen.

Jim can track his movements from the amount of noise he’s making alone. A crash from by the sink as several pans go tumbling to the floor. A series of hard bangs as the door through to the front room is kicked when it inevitably jams stuck halfway open. A wooden crack as the couch is collapsed into carelessly as yet another support beam splinters underneath it. 

“IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS DOWN HERE WITHIN THE NEXT TEN FUCKING SECONDS BOY, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS TO NEPTUNE AND BACK!”

A mild threat by Frank’s usual standards, but more than enough to send Jim racing towards down the stairs with his heart in his throat before the words have even been finished shouting.

* * *

“What you got there bozo?” Chad Greens demands, stalking across the playground towards him with obvious single-minded intent. 

“N- nothing,” Jim stammers.

He curses himself for stuttering. Greens will pounce upon the perceived weakness with a viciousness only Frank has so far managed to rival.

“N- Nothing,” Greens imitates back, high pitched. Jason Fryson and K’Tell Pentor’dol, Greens’ main lackeys snigger from behind him, stepping up to their leader’s shoulders and looming in an attempt to be intimidating. 

“Honestly, I don’t have anything Chad,” Jim repeats more clearly. 

“I d-d-don’t have any-fin Chad,” Greens imitates again to more callous laughter. “Liar. What are you hiding behind your back shrimp-boy?”

The only thing Jim is hiding behind his back his own wrists with their decorative ring of belt marks courtesy of Frank’s vintage leather belt, but he doesn’t want the school’s bullies to see them either.

“I’m not holding anything Chad,” he states truthfully. “There’s nothing in my hands or tucked into the top of trousers or hidden in my pockets.”

“Yeah right,” Fryson drawls, cracking his knuckles. 

“I say we take it from him,” Pentor’dol adds as he rolls his shoulders. “Either he hands it over now, or we teach him how to share the hard way.”

“I don’t have anything guys,” Jim says flatly, tipping his head slightly so his hair falls away from his eyes. 

“You’ve got five seconds to give me whatever is behind your back, or we’ll grind your face into the dust bonehead.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Jim bites out again. He glances from side to side, trying to spot an out. But his back is against a wall and the only people in view are just other kids who are more likely to laugh than help him.

“Four.”

“I don’t have anything to give you Todd!”

“Three.”

Making sure his sleeves are pulled down as low as he can get them, he hastily brings his hands round to his front.

“I don’t have anything!” he cries desperately. “See! Nothing!”

“Two One too late,” Greens finishes in a rush with a malicious grin.

And then a fist slams into Jim’s nose.

* * *

He sits on the basic biobed in the nurse’s office with his knees huddled to his chest. 

No-one has made any comments on the dusty footprints he’s leaving on the white sheet covering it. 

He’s been here four hours now. School ended 20 minutes ago.

It’s been three hours and 35 minutes since he broke down and told the school nurse everything. About the marks on his wrists, on his back, on his chest. About the scars and why she can see all of his ribs when he takes his shirt off. 

Three hours and fifteen minutes since his tears tried up and he was left feeling hollow inside.

He only came to the nurse in the first place because he feared his nose had been broken. 

“He’s not going to come in willingly,” Jim repeats dully when the principal once again sighs deeply and pinches his brow. “The only thing Frank cares about is himself.”

“Yes, I think you’re right,” the town sheriff says soothingly. Well. Doesn’t sound soothing to Jim, just moderately condescending. “We’ll give it five more minutes and then I’ll go issue a Federation APB.”

“And hopefully we’ll hear back from Starfleet soon about your mother’s whereabouts Jimmy,” the principle smiles. Jim stops himself from glaring at her, and stares at his worn-out boots instead.

“She hasn’t even called in three years; she’s not gonna come all the way back to Iowa for me,” he mumbles apathetically. “And even before then, she only paid attention to Sam. And now Sam is gone.”

Awkward silence follows Jim’s statement. Again.

There’s been lots of awkward silences this afternoon.

“Well, we’ll sort something out for you kid. You’ll never have to live with that bast- that man ever again.”

Jim doesn’t answer. 

He’s too busy wondering if this means his life will actually get better, or if its just taken yet another turn for the worse.

* * *

The sheriff takes him to the station for the night.

Sets him up a small cot in her office.

Starfleet Comm to say they are sending a small team tomorrow morning. But that Winona Kirk will not be part of it. 

Jim doesn’t sleep a wink all night.

* * *

He rises from the cot when Deputy Garza pokes his head into his boss’ office to let her know that Frank has been spotted in Central Nebraska. Over 500 miles away.

Something loosens in his chest when he hears that. Something he hadn’t realised had been knotted. 

Maybe he’s free of Frank finally after all.

Maybe things _will_ get better after all.

* * *

Or maybe not.

The Kirk family farmhouse is… gone.

Mostly. 

Less than half the structure is still standing, and the remains are charred and soot blackened. The out buildings, including the old barn containing George Kirk’s vintage car, are still standing, but the house its self is damaged beyond repair.

Everything Jim owned beyond the clothes on his back and the meagre contents of his rucksack is gone. Everything he came out here hoping to collect. All of it. Gone.

“When did this happen?” he asks weakly. 

“No more than an hour ago,” Sheriff Dodelly answer quietly. “Fire department reckons there was a timed sparker left behind the solar generator in the attic. Most of the roof would have been ablaze before anyone even knew what was happening.”

“At least of all dad’s stuff was already gone,” Jim sniffs sadly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “Frank sold all of it except for the car.”

“I’m sorry kid,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Jim knows she really does mean it, but the words ring hollow in his ears anyway.

* * *

“The delegation from Starfleet will be here in 20 minutes kid; their shuttle just touched down in the shipyards.”

Jim continues to stare at the floor by his feet and shrugs disinterestedly. Dodelly does not push him to interact further. 

They’re back in the Riverside police station, and Jim still cannot quite believe that his entire life has burnt to the ground. Both literally and metaphorically. 

In the corner of the sheriff’s office, the too-skinny mousing cat meows piteously. At least, Jim thinks, no-one died in the fire.

* * *

Two humans, a Vulcan, an Andorian, and a male-presenting guy(?) of a humanoid species Jim does not recognise. Two Admirals, a Commodore, a Surgeon-Captain, and a Lieutenant hovering awkwardly at the back of the small group.

Jim eyes them all warily. 

“You must be James Kirk,” the human of the two Admirals addresses him, kneeling in front of the low plastic chair Jim is huddled in. “I’m Admiral Nogura, and I was friends with your father.”

* * *

They take him to the local diner, Nogura insisting that they not discuss anything of importance with empty stomachs. 

Jim briefly considers telling the man he’s never done anything on anything _but_ an empty stomach, but decides to hold his tongue on account of how depressing it sounds even in his head.

“So you are you a pancake lad, or a toast lad?” the Andorian asks him, handing out menus once they’ve all climbed into a booth. “Or would you prefer something else? You can have anything you fancy.”

Jim blinks, and then looks to Nogura with a frown. He’s never been allowed to order whatever he wanted before; was lucky if he was allowed more than a meagre bowl of soggy fries.

“Commodore Th’Nall is correct young James,” The Vulcan Admiral answers tonelessly when he notices Jim’s silent staring. “You may select which ever items you desire as sustenance, though it would be wise to choose at least one item of high nutritional value.”

_Anything_ he wants? _Anything?_

The younger Lieutenant sat opposite him must notice his startlement, because he smiles encouragingly at him and then slides his menu sideways between them so they can both see it.

“Christopher Pike,” the man offers with another smile. “And I’m having pancakes with bacon and maple syrup.” He taps the listed item twice with his finger and then lets his hand drift over to the hot drinks section.

“Black coffee?” Jim asks when Lieutenant Pike doesn’t read it aloud himself. 

“Darker than Komack’s soul, but with enough sugar to resurrect diabetes,” the man chuckles. And then winces when Admiral Nogura reaches over casually and clips him round the ear with a muttered word about respecting his seniors. “I wouldn’t recommend you have the same though,” he continues. “Despite recent medical advances, I believe caffeine is still something kids and teens should avoid. Something about hyperactivity and stunting growth or whatever.”

“What if I want to be short?” Jim asks with a slight smirk, slowly relaxing a little.

“Then I’m best friends with an overly cheerful doctor who can help you with that without resorting to the questionable results of caffeine.”

“Fine, I’ll have orange juice.”

“The Earth variety, or the slightly odd blue stuff from the Delta system? They’re both on the menu.”

Jim frowns again and looks back down at the menu.

“I should worn you though,” Pike laughs, “It will give your skin a blue hue for three hours or so after you drink it.”

Jim grins, and orders the blue orange with his bacon pancakes.

* * *

The school nurse already checked Jim over completely after she’d seen the markings, but the Starfleet Doctor of still unknown species quietly requests that they too be allowed to scan him and ensure his good health.

Jim agrees, but not without grumbling. The Doctor’s not going to find anything he couldn’t just tell them about himself after all. 

On Nogura’s orders, Pike sits with him as Doctor Guur runs the sensor of a medical tricorder over him slowly and meticulously. Jim has never been one to find comfort in people hovering close by him but Pike somehow manages to be unobtrusive despite his proximity, so Jim allows it.

“Multiple breaks that haven’t been set properly, particularly in the forearms and ribs,” the Doctor mutters to themself as they peer at the screen of the tricorder. “Extensive bruising which has seen some initial regeneration, and wide spread scarring which has not. Prolonged malnutrition with bouts of starvation in evidence. A range of allergies, most mild but some severe, and-”

“I err, think we get the picture Guur,” Pike interrupts with a hand on the Doctor’s arm. 

The doctor pauses and cocks their head.

“-And one temporary case of Delta Orange pigmentation,” they finish with a weak smile. “If we found you a pair of antenna, you’d make quite the fetching young Andorian I’d say.”

Jim swallows and nods half-heartedly, his amusement at his skin colour faded thanks to the reminder of his less than stellar life until now. 

“Well anyway, I’ll see to it that you get prescribed a course of nutrient boosters. I presume that like most humans you would prefer to take them orally rather than as hypos?”

“Hypos please,” Jim mumbles without looking up. “Don’t like swallowing things whole.”

“How about we discuss everything else later on hey?” Pike interrupts again just as Guur opens their mouth to continue. “Jim’s most likely coming back to San Fran with us anyway, at least for the time being. No use worrying over it all now.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct; we shall leave it there for today then. I won’t give you a prescription right now, as I need some time to ensure that the nutrient boosters you need will have no adverse interactions with any of your allergies. Now I suggest you go with Lieutenant Pike and reconvene with Admiral Nogura. I will follow along shortly once I have packed my equipment.”

Jim slides off the low bench and back to his feet gratefully, smiling back when Pike winks at him while the Doctor is not looking. 

They walk out of the small building and across the shipyard together, Pike’s right hand resting on his shoulder. And his other pointing out interesting parts of the ship built above their heads.

* * *

“Lieutenant, sir? What is he- they? What are they?” Jim asks, meaning the doctor they’ve just left behind. 

Pike chuckles and squeezes his shoulder a little tighter for a second. Thankfully he knows what Jim is asking despite the vagueness of his question. 

_“They,”_ he emphasises, “are apparently a J’naii. The only one known to the Federation so far. Guur says their species had just discovered warp when he accidently left his solar system. He was the medical officer on board a small shuttle that was enroute between their native planet and a small moon colony when they were hit by an unexpected a solar flare with unusual readings; suddenly the shuttle was floating in unknown space. There were two more J’naii onboard before the flare, but Guur was the only one there when he regained consciousness. One of our ‘Fleet ships found the shuttle hovering near powerlessly not long after he woke up, and with little other choice, they agreed to come on aboard and be taken to the nearest starbase.”

“And then they ended up joining Starfleet?” Jim asks.

“And then they joined the ‘Fleet, yes son. Guur is trained as a pilot as well as a doctor, and they wanted to make use of those skills.”

“And are all the J’naii like Guur sir? Errrr… Agender or whatever?”

“From what Guur has said, yes I believe so yes. Their preferred term is Androgynous. Or at least Guur’s preferred term is. But…”

He trails off and Jim frowns up at him.

“But what?”

“Well this is entirely a hunch kid, and I have no actual data to back me up… Actually you know what, forget it kid. It’s not important.”

Jim stops and stares up at the Lieutenant until he too pauses. They watch each other in silence, Jim with an increasingly mulish expression, until Pike sighs and mutters about stubborn oiks and keeping his impressions to himself under his breath.

“Okay fine,” The Lieutenant grumbles. “But I will… cry and sulk all over you extensively if you treat Guur differently because of this.”

Jim shrugs and then reluctantly nods his agreement. He’s not sure he likes the weird Doctor anyway.

“Well, I get the impression they have a binary transphobia problem. As a society as a whole I mean. It was nearly sixteen years ago that their shuttle was picked up, so I’ve only got third hand accounts to go off, but apparently Gaar freaked out about the rest of us having genders; called us all deviants and insisted we needed therapy to “normalise” us.”

“Like how old humans used to have gay conversion therapy?”

“A little bit like that, yes Jim.”

Jim looks down and frowns at the floor again, watching the tiny motes of rock dust blowing softly across the ground.

“You said your best friend is a Doctor? What’s he like? Is he nice?”

“His name is Phil Boyce,” Pike smiles. Jim catches the expression in his peripheral vision and makes himself look up again. “He’s a human like us, only he’s perpetually cheerful and really like tropical fish. He can do that cool bartender thing where he juggles the bottles and shakers too, and he likes to steal my hoodies and jumpers even though he’s shorter than me and they completely swamp him. He always buys me chocolate when I’m grumpy and he complains about the amount of sugar I put in my coffee. And we watch old films together when we have time off or shore leave, but he always falls asleep within the first half hour, and usually ends up spilling his popcorn everywhere.”

Jim frowns again; he’s been doing that a lot today, frowning.

“So he’s your boyfriend as well as your best friend sir?”

Pike gives him an odd look.

“No, we’re both straight kid. And he only just broke up with his girlfriend two weeks ago actually.”

Jim thinks about the lopsided smile the Lieutenant was wearing while he talked about his friend and wonders who’s more wrong; Pike about his own sexuality, or Jim himself about his interpretation.

But no matter; once they’ve finally left Riverside, its unlikely he’ll ever see the Lieutenant again. 

So he just says “oh”, and then sets off walking again.

* * *

There’s a Federation child protection officer waiting with the two Admirals and the Commodore when they stumble back inside the big main admin building in the shipyard. Jim is giggling hysterically at another one of the truly awful puns that Pike has been reeling off for the last couple of minutes as he stumbles in, but he falls silent immediately when four heads to turn to look at him intently.

Admiral Nogura clears his throat when both Jim and Pike stop dead and stare back at them.

“Lieutenant Pike,” Nogura begins eventually. “I trust Doctor Guur managed to complete his medical examination to his satisfaction?”

“Well, they got cut a bit short so that Jim was saved from some unnecessary discomfort sir, but they gathered all the data they needed. They’ll be along shortly, if you have any specific questions sir.”

“Good, good,” Nogura nods. “Well I suggest you come and down the two of you; Ms Hestor here has a lot of thigs to discuss with us. She’s from the child protection services.”

Jim moves over to the long, utilitarian sofas slowly, and is highly surprised at himself when he does not flinch away from Pike when the man sits far closer to him than Jim would usually be comfortable with.

* * *

He’s given a choice

Either he goes back with the Starfleet Officers to the San Francisco headquarters and Academy Campus. Or he stays in Iowa and goes into the foster system.

In the 23rd Century the foster system doesn’t have the same bad reputation it used to have, but there are still stories about things that have gone wrong, and how a general air of unwanted hangs over nearly every kid in it. Jim is smart enough to know that a lot of it is probably exaggerated, and that the worst stories are the ones which get shouted the loudest. But.

But it’s enough to make him wary. 

He would after all, be going in with a semi-famous name attached to him, Which could work in his favour, or it could really not.

But then again, will Starfleet be any better?

How is it even going to work? Will he stay with one family, or will he go into dorms? Is there a school for ‘Fleet kids that he’ll attend, and will it be boarding? Will he just stay with a different officer every month or so? Will he get to go live on one of the starships, or on a starbase? 

And what about his mom? Will Winona Kirk ever come back from deep space? Or will he be shuffled around amongst other Starfleet members until he’s old enough to be emancipated? What if he gets settled and is happy and she suddenly comes back to Earth and tears him away from stability?

What if, what if, what if?

* * *

He sits in silence, thoughts swirling round his head. 

He doesn’t know if he can choose.

Then Pike shuffles beside him.

And Jim thinks… If there are more people like him, maybe Starfleet will be alright?

So he looks back to the CPS lady. And he chooses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all just errr. Pretend it didn't take me 13 months to write this chapter yeah? K thanks, love u all xx

Jim’s glad he chose Starfleet.

He may only be ten, but the Academy campus in San Francisco is amazing. 

After seeing all the extra work he’d been doing through online courses, Admirals Nogura and Stavak had agreed that he only had to go a school with kids his age for two and a half days a week. Jim had tried to get them to let him not go at all, but Nogura in particular was insistent that he needed to socialise with his peers at least some of the time. He had even brought out some published psychology articles and journals on youth development and gifted child syndrome, and then told him he would go socialise and be kid even he had to drag him through the school gates each morning himself.

So he goes to middle school on Mondays, Tuesday mornings and Thursdays. 

Thankfully it’s a ‘Fleet run school, so there are classes specifically designed to cater to genius overachievers. He gets to carry on with degree credits for maths, physics, and mechanical engineering, gets high school level teaching for the other sciences, computing, and Classic Literature. And even the standard aimed-at-middle-schoolers classes he has to go to occasionally are alright. Health studies and social, galactic finance, art, Earth and Federation history. 

But the rest of the week? The rest of the week he’s allowed to sit in on whatever Starfleet Academy lectures he wants to (provided the lecturer giving it is okay with it obviously). He’s not allowed take part in any of the tactical sims or the survival courses, or the more dangerous parts of engineering and so on. But even with those limitations, there’s _so much_ he _can_ do, so much he’s allowed to learn. 

His favourite lectures by far are the tactical and exploratory seminars given by Lieutenant Pike on Tuesday afternoons. It’s only an introductory level course aimed at first year Cadets, but Jim feels like he’s been thrown into a whole other universe when he’s sat in that lecture theatre. It’s not very science heavy (not surprising given that Pike is very open about how badly he failed Astrophysics during his own time in the academy), but it does contain lots of first-hand accounts of different situations the officer has found himself in, and of how he and his fellow officers resolved them. He talks about the wonder of the stars, the joy in discovering new life, the thrills of working alongside a team of people of all species that you know you can trust implicitly. 

Pike doesn’t sugar coat it though, being equally clear that sometimes things don’t go to plan and people get hurt or worse. For every anecdote of joy and wonder, there’s a cautionary tale to match it. Space is wild and untamed, and every single being in the room is but a speck compared to its vastness.

Jim sometimes wonders if he’s forgotten that there’s a ten-year-old hanging off his every word in the room when Pike recounts some of the grimmer stories of his time in the black. But then there’ll be the times when he’ll tell the cadets to talk to him after class for more details as he directly gives Jim a small smile, and Jim will know that, for all the gory details he’s sharing, Pike is still distilling it for his young ears.

The Cadets themselves mostly seem bemused by his presence but take it in their stride. He gets a lot of hair ruffles once they get used to seeing him, and once they realise he’s “whip smart”, they answer all his curious questions with a fondness Jim didn’t believe adults capable of before. 

Jim loves it. 

He loves sitting through those lectures and soaking it all in, loves the way the various hand-to-hand instructors don’t talk down to him and treat him like just another student, loves that Nogura gives him a too big and rather baggy black instructor’s jacket to wear over his new tees and jeans. 

Loves that he always has a warm, safe bed to go to the end of the night with Nogura or Stavak or occasionally Pike or some old guy with dogs that insists Jim call him Jon and won’t share his surname. 

(Jim especially loves when he gets to stay with Mr Pike. Even though he has to sleep on his couch in a bundle of fluffy blankets because he only has a small single bed. Mr Pike is his favourite, and not just because he replicates all the best foods for him. He’s just so _nice.)_

Loves that he doesn’t even have to ask for food before it’s given to him, and that the nice lady called Rebecca that he has to talk to twice a week _actually listens_ to all his complaints about growing up and Frank and how shitty school was before and doesn’t tell him he’s being ungrateful or arrogant or a disappointment. 

Stars, he just loves living at Starfleet Academy.

* * *

Only then.

Only he then gets into trouble at school over _gym_ of all things.

For the first two months Nogura ( _you’re allowed to call me ‘Chrio kid, you sleep in my house 4 times a week...)_ had taken him to Starfleet Medical at least once a week and the doctors and nurses there had slowly but surely been reducing the scarring on his body and carefully straightening the bones that had set wonky after they’d been broken. They’d also given him sorts of nutrients and antihistamines and immuno-boosters and other stuff, but Jim had mostly been grateful for the dermal regeneration. Everyone said it would take more than a few years for his skin to clear up completely, but because he was still young and elastic, it was possible. Stars, but Jim _couldn’t wait_ for the day when he’d be able to take off his shirt and see not a single one of the marks Frank had left on him. 

So for the first two months he went with Nogura to Medical once a week. And then for the next three months he went every other Sunday. And the most recent marks were getting faint and the oldest ones were at least looking slightly paler? Less red or shocking white?

But they’re still there for now. 

Jim still doesn’t like taking his shirt off, still won’t for anyone but the Doctor who always does his regen. 

He doesn’t want anyone to see the distinctive belt buckle shapes carved into his back, or the burns all up his arms and shoulders, or the ropey glass bottle scars on his chest. The cuts around his knees or the reed thin lines across his thighs. 

He doesn’t want anyone to see, least of all the kids at the middle school who seem friendly enough but still make Jim nervous. What if the smiles and shared jokes and laughter are just a front? What if they turn out to be just like Greens and his fellow bullies in Iowa as soon as his guard is down? What if?

So Jim always waits until all the other kids have left the locker room before he hastily changes into his sports uniform. And he always waits until they’ve all left again before he gets changed afterwards back into his cadet-like school uniform. 

And that’s always been fine. He’d told Pike why he’d gotten a warning slip for being late to his next class the first time it happened, and Pike had talked to Nogura who’d talked to the principal. Who in turn must have talked to the teachers he has after gym, because he never gets another slip when he slides into the classroom five minutes after he should have done. 

Until.

Until there’s a different gym teacher to usual and the whole class gets dragged out into the rain to play _rugby._

* * *

“Sorry kid,” Pike grunts as he drops into the hard plastic seat next to him outside the principal's office. “Admiral Nogura is in some big important meeting and Stavak is shipside for the next month doing some diplomatic work, so looks like you’re stuck with just me. Nogura gave me some frequencies I can call if we need some more authoritative backup, ‘cause we all know I shouldn’t be first choice for this kind of thing. I’m still sort of mystified that I’m involved with you at all to be honest.”

“It’s okay Mr Pike,” Jim says quietly, his hands tucked into his uniform jacket sleeves, and his booted feet swinging nervously back and forth beneath him. “You’re always nice to me and you’re really good at your Starfleet job. I’m sorry you had to do this too.”

“Oh hey now,” Lieutenant Pike drawls in his southern Californian accent. “I said I was a bad choice for this, not you. I think you’re doing fantastically and I’m personally amazed that this is the first time one of us has been called in to talk to the principal with you. We’re all really proud of you, you know that right?”

Jim shrugs self-consciously. Rebecca is always saying he’s a good kid worth more than ten times than he thinks he is, that Frank and the others were wrong about him. But he still feels weird when Nogura or Pike or anyone else alludes to it or outright tells him so too. 

“So are you going to tell me what happened hey kid?” Pike asks gently when Jim continues to remain silently.

“I punched Mr ch’Tall,” he admits quietly. “He’s the new gym teacher, and he- he made us go outside and learn how to play rugby.”

“But it’s freezing and absolutely chucking it down,” Pike gasps with a slightly horrified look. “And you’re _ten!”_

“Yeah but he said we hadda, so we got all muddy and wet and cold.”

“Not gonna lie kid, I’d have punched him too for that alone,” Pike snorts, hooking his arm gently over Jim’s shoulders. “But you’re a lot nicer than I am, so I bet he did something even worse to make you hit him?”

“We got all muddy and wet so he said we all had to shower before we were allowed to leave the locker room. I didn’t wonna ‘cause… well you know. I kept asking not to, but he said I had to! And I didn’t know what to do!”

“Hey, it’s okay, I understand kid,” Pike says soothingly, and Jim realises he’d nearly shouted that last sentence, that he was gripping the edge of the chair hard enough to make it bend through his sleeves. 

“M’sorry,” he mumbles again, forcing himself to relax again under Mr Pike’s arm. “But he started shouting at me to take my clothes off right now and get under the water with my classmates. And then he got so _close,”_ he whispers. “I thought- I thought he was gonna grab me and _pull_ my shirt off. He was _so mad.”_

Jim shudders, only distantly aware that he’s started crying. He hates it when it happens, but there’s only Mr Pike to see and he doesn’t seem to be mad at him for being such a little baby. So he just shoves his face into Pike’s side and pretends it’s not happening.

“Sounds like I need to have words with this Mr ch’Tall,” Pike growls above him as he moves his arm so that it’s around Jim’s back and not just his shoulders. 

“But I hit him! I’m the bad one! I hit a grown up!” Jim sobs quietly, hiccups muffled by Pike’s chest.

“No Jim, he shouldn’t have frightened you like that. He had no right to demand you do something that you were obviously very uncomfortable with.”

“But I hit him,” he chokes again.

“Yeah, and I’m going to hit him too, just you wait and see kiddo. No one gets to treat you like that, not on my watch.”

* * *

In the end Pike doesn’t hit Mr ch’Tall, but only because Admiral Nogura appears looking harried and breaks up their shouting match. Jim sits in the chair in front of the Principal’s desk and cowers as they continue to try and yell at each other even after that though, so eventually the Principal and Nogura agree that Pike should take Jim home for the night. 

Pike is given explicit instructions to let him eat candy and ice cream and watch holo movies all night, which confuses Jim greatly. 

Maybe Mr Pike was right before, and he’s not in that much trouble after all?

* * *

The fall out of it all though, is that Mr Pike has to go back up into space at the end of the current Academy semester.

“But it’s not fair,” Jim shouts angrily when Admiral Nogura tells him. “I don’t want him to go! He’s my friend! I don’t even want to go to the stupid school!”

“Jim,” the Admiral sighs tiredly. “I know you’re upset son, but Lieutenant Pike is an active service member of Starfleet. He was only grounded and given a teaching post until a Chief Tactical Officer position became available on one of the bigger research ships anyway. He always was going to have to go back out into the galaxy, you know that.”

“But you’re sending him away early because of me!” Jim snarls, holding back the tears. “He didn’t do anything wrong! I did!”

“No Jim. You’re a child that defended yourself against a teacher that was out of bounds. Mr Pike is a Starfleet officer that loudly threatened to assault a private citizen.”

“But he was defending me!” Jim sobs as his iron grip on his emotions slips without his will. “Please don’t send him away!”

“I’m sorry son, but if he stays ch’Tall is going to press formal charges. It’s safer for Christopher if he goes away on a starship. You’ll still be able to talk to him and send him messages, and I’m sure he’ll promise to come back to Earth as soon as he can.”

Jim doesn’t stop sobbing even when Nogura pulls him into a hug and rubs a soft hand up and down his back.

* * *

Life at Starfleet academy after that is still good, but it loses a lot of the shine. Jim still has to go to school for half the week (the new gym teacher having been shown the door after being made to hand over his teaching permit), and he still goes to lots of lectures and practical sessions at the Academy. But now he stays with Admiral Nogura and his wife all the time except when Jon is “babysitting” (he hates that word. He’s not a baby, even if he has been crying like one a lot recently). 

Mr Pike sends him a message at least twice a week, usually with holopics attached, but it’s not the same. He gets to see snapshots of all sorts of star systems and the surfaces of far and distant planets, the craters on a distant ice moon, feasts and parties and merry making from a diplomatic summit on Calos Prime. But even the physical images are not the same as the worlds and landscapes Pike was able to paint in his imagination with just his words.

Jim’s life is still entire galaxies better than it was before, but Jim thinks its not as good as it should be. 

He briefly considers acting up and misbehaving until they let Pike come back to Earth again, but Pike himself made Jim promise he wouldn’t the last time he saw him. So he grits his teeth and does his absolute best to always be top of his classes.

(He’d stayed with the Lieutenant all three nights before he had to ship out, physically clinging to the man in a way he’d never felt safe doing so with an adult before. He'd hung on to him as often as he could manage)

He promised, so he reminds himself that these people are giving him everything he’s ever dreamed of and does his best to enjoy it.

* * *

“Okay, I have a deal to offer you,” ‘Chiro says on the evening of his eleventh birthday in January. There had been cake and presents and everything. Jim still feels a little overwhelmed, even though this stability has been his life for almost a year now. 

“A deal?” Jim asks curiously, gripping his glass of strawberry sprite carefully.

“Yes young man, a deal,” ‘Chiro laughs back. “I know you’ve been to more than enough diplomatic lectures to understand what I mean. So many in fact, that the head of the department has been joking that you should just put on a red uniform and take the exams too.”

“But I only did some of the coursework,” Jim replies reasonably. “You have to do a huge report on Duluth Theory and go to the annual summit in Vienna to pass that course.”

“I bet you could do the report though kid,” ‘Chiro snorts fondly.

“Well sure, if I had the time,” Jim grins, cocking his head. “But it’s 5000 words minimum and I got maths homework that’s more important. And I promised Ensign Scully that I’d practice my chokehold escapes and-! well, I have lots of things that I have to do.”

“Which is why I’m going to offer you a deal. Do the report, and do the exam next semester, and you can go off planet for six months.”

“Off planet?” Jim gasps in excitement. “Do I get to go on a real Federation starship!? Can I try sitting in the Captain’s chair and help launch from space dock! Can I go in the Jefferies tubes and-!?”

“-Woah, slow down sunny Jim,” ‘Chiro cuts over him with a laugh. “There’s a tactics and diplomacy course being run by a specialist institution on a planet called Tarsus IV. You have to have the basic accreditation on your record to apply, but that’s what the report and exams are for. The planet itself is a small agricultural science colony, researching crop modification and emergency techniques, but their funding has been cut recently. So the Governor is hoping that offering to host this course will stir up some interest in the project again and thus net them some more grants.”

“Isn’t Tarsus IV where my Aunt lives?” Jim asks curiously after a sip of his drink. “The one who said I could go live with her if I wanted to but I’d have to go work on her farm too and you grumbled about it being child labour?”

“That’s the one yes. And Jon’s old friend, Hoshi Sato lives there too.”

“Old Jon Archer has a friend that’s not a dog?” Jim asks cheekily, still amazed that the crazy dog guy who looks after him sometimes turned out to be _the_ Jonathan Archer.

“Be nice brat,” ‘Chiro scolds kindly. “Yes he does; Hoshi is a galaxy renowned linguist, and she’s been staying in the colony while she works on updating the universal translator programming.”

“Wait. The universal translator! That’s so _cool!_ I _love_ the one you got me for Christmas!”

“You know what I think you’ll like even more?”

Jim scowls playfully, as ‘Chiro knows he doesn’t like it when he’s made to guess at things. Eventually Nogura laughs at his expression and continues with a smirk.

“Lieutenant Commander Christopher Pike will be there for the third month as one of the lecturers.”

“OhMyGodYou’reKidding,” Jim gabbles all in one breath. “I’ll do anything Mr Nogura, I promise! I’ll do the report and the exams and do all my chores and go to school without complaining and get all ones on my reports and-”

“Breathe Jim,” the Japanese man laughs teasingly. “You’re not going into space if you can’t manage to stay conscious until then.”

* * *

The days seem to pass rather swiftly now that he has something to look forward too. He does the report in a rush, eager to finish it and fulfil part of the terms for his application. Nogura told him in no uncertain terms was he allowed to let his other grades slip by concentrating too much on study and revision for the diplomatics exam, but he still makes sure that he buries his heads in papers and notes and books as often as he can.

Soon enough, he’s escorted into the exam hall along with all the Academy Cadets sitting the same paper. A few of them look at him funny for being there, but most of them are so used to seeing Jim around campus and in their classes, they don’t even blink and just wish him luck.

* * *

“I passed, I passed, I passed!” Jim shouts gleefully at the Comm terminal in Stavak’s home study room. 

“Ha! I knew you would,” the grainy image of Christopher Pike grins back, vid lagging due to the thousands of light years between them.

“Mr Nogura- wait no I mean- Sorry, I keep forgetting I have to use his first name now or I don’t get pudding after dinner. _‘Chiro_ gave me my off-Earth Federation ID after I got the results this afternoon, and he’s taking me to meet Captain V’zzazo after school tomorrow ‘cause I’m going on her ship to Tarsus. Did you know it’s gonna take a _whole month_ to get there from Earth!?”

There’s another pause while they both wait for the Comm data to transfer half way across the sector and back, and then Pike is laughing again.

“I hear Mrs Nogura makes the best puddings, so I would take that threat seriously if I were you kid. Captain V’zzazo hey? Can’t say I’ve met her personally, but she’s got a very good record. You make sure you behave for her and follow all of her instructions and rules. Even if they seem stupid. Starships are dangerous places kiddo, and she’ll just be trying to keep you safe, understand?”

“It’s okay,” Jim nods sagely after the wait. ‘Chiro says she’s allowed to put me in the brig if I do anything I shouldn’t, and even though the security officers are always nice to me, I don’t want that to happen. I don’t think they’ll be so nice if they’re mad at me.”

“The inside of the brig _is_ a pretty boring and miserable place,” Pike smirks. “Trust me, twice was more than enough times for me to find that out.”

“You’ve been sentenced to the brig!?” Jim exclaims in shock. “But you’re so good! You just got promoted and Captain April is gonna make you his XO when you go back after Tarsus!”

“Eh, I’m alright now, but I was, quote unquote, “a bit of a hellion” at the Academy,” the commander winks. “And I may have started a bit of a big fistfight on shore leave once when I was a newly minted Ensign. We had just beamed down to this planet called…”

Jim shuffles his chair closer to the terminal and settles in to listen to another one of Mr Pike’s epic stories.

* * *

Jim only gets in trouble three times throughout the whole month, and the second time technically wasn’t his fault. There’d been a red alert, and the ship had been taking fire, so of course he’d run to the bridge in his panic. He’d already been most of the way there anyway, as the Captain had promised to briefly drop out of warp to show him the binary star system they were passing through the viewscreen. 

Yes, so he’d been sternly told that he had to immediately run to either his quarters or to the security briefing room (depending on which was closer) if the red alert sounded. But he’d _panicked_ okay? Things had been exploding, officers and crewmen had been running around, and he’d been scared.

Anyway. Yes. 

The second time totally didn’t count (and he won’t tell you about the third. Even he can admit what he’d done had been colossally stupid).

The first had been an accident. Or at least that’s the story he was sticking too. 

No matter how many exasperated Comms ‘Chiro and Stavak sent him.

* * *

Tarsus IV is so warm.

It shouldn’t be surprising given that it has two suns and experiences a double noon approximately once every two standard weeks, but Jim thought more of the heat would be filtered out by the extensive terraform barrier. It’s hardly a desert, but even a year living in California hadn’t entirely adjusted him to warmer climes after growing up in the Midwest. 

“Have you definitely got all your luggage,” Commander Bronn repeats for the fifth time since he arrived at Jim’s quarters to escort him to the surface. They’re now standing outside of Hoshi Sato’s modest cottage on the outskirts of the main town, and he clearly still doesn’t believe Jim’s affirmative answer.

“And you know your routine while you’re here?” The feathery first officer also repeats.

“I’m staying with Miss Sato on weeknights and going to the local school on weekday mornings. I go to the Government buildings in the afternoons for the diplomatics and tactics course with the cadets and junior officers that are also here on the planet, and then I go stay with my Aunt and my cousins on the weekends to give Miss Sato a break from my “prepubescent sarcastic nature”. Yeah, I know my routine sir.”

He probably shouldn’t have rolled his eyes, but Bronn has made it clear in the last month that he’s not particularly fond of Jim, and so ‘Chiro had told him he was allowed to be rude after three weeks of perfect manners and politeness hadn’t changed his attitude.

“See that you follow it,” Bronn sniffs haughtily. “Now press the door buzzer and get inside with you. I have work on the ship awaiting my return.”

* * *

Hoshi is amazing and immediately starts teaching him Vulcan and Klingon. He’d picked up a bit of vocabulary from his extracurricular habits at the Academy, but Hoshi’s teaching is something else.

School is kinda lame after the high quality of Starfleet Intermediate Preparatory, but it’s still miles better than Riverside Junior was, so he shrugs and keeps his head down.

Afternoons are great, as he gets to help in the bio and horticulture labs whenever there isn’t a seminar or lecture. The young man at the front desk always give him a mint when he comes into the town public hall at lunch time, and the research scientists let him do all the interesting jobs like blasting the older greenhouses with sterifluid and sonic cleaners.

His Aunt his aimable enough, though always looks tired and overworked. His cousins are pretty quiet and do their really long list of chores every day without even the smallest complaint (which Jim finds pretty weird as both Mr Pike and ‘Chiro had told him kids were _supposed_ to moan about doing chores), but they’re alright. Mikey lets Jim try his pedal quad out, and Gracie braids his hair into hundreds of tiny plaits one day that make his hair go all curly when he takes them out. Jim shows them both how to rewire a replicator, and they talk to him more after that, but they’re still quiet.

Overall, Tarsus IV is not bad except for the need to wear shorts and short sleeved t-shirts most of the time.

Jim knows it will only get better from here, as in less than 10 days, Mr Pike is due to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've left it at total 3 chapters for now, but I think it will end up being 4 :thinking_emoji:  
> Here's to hoping you don't have to wait another year for it, cause it's gonna be an _angst fest_ ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Hey._  
>  Hey kids.
> 
> Do you wonna buy some... angst?

“Mr Pike!” Jim yells excitedly as the small group of officers materialise in the designated beam-down area near the town centre. As soon as the last of the blue energy surrounding them has dissipated, Jim sprints the short distance to them and launches himself at the man.

“Woah!” Pike chuckles in surprise as he hastily drops his luggage and staggers back a few steps with the force of Jim’s small body barrelling into his. “You’ve grown!”

“All adults say that,” Jim moans theatrically as he wraps his legs and arms around the man like a koala. “Is it like some dumb grown up rule? You don’t see a kid for more than a week, so its compulsory to comment on how tall they are?”

“It absolutely is kiddo,” the guy who beamed down next to Pike comments dryly with a smile.

Jim turns his head to peer at him suspiciously while also not letting go of Pike.

“Philip Boyce, Deputy CMO of the Yorktown and Christopher’s main babysitter,” the other guy introduces himself, holding his hand out for a shake like Jim’s an adult. He immediately goes up in Jim’s estimation for the gesture.

“James T. Kirk,” Jim offers back, sliding down off Pike and turning around to grab the hand offered to him with a pleased grin. He leans backwards as he does so though, pressing his back against Pike’s midriff. “Unofficial orphan and ‘Fleet adoptee.”

He tries to imitate Doctor Boyce’s gravelly mature tone as he talks, but it just makes him sound like he needs to cough. Which… not embarrassing at all? Right!? Thankfully Boyce doesn’t comment or try to tease him, and just smiles wider.

“Want to walk with us to the hostel we’re all staying at?” Pike asks from behind him, dropping his hands down onto Jim’s shoulders. “You probably know where we’re going better than us anyway.”

“Uh-huh!” Jim nods enthusiastically, scrambling to pick up Pike’s duffel bag for him. It’s kinda heavy but he manages to swing the straps up over his left shoulder and then grip it against his chest. 

“I think I we should swap son,” Pike laughs at him, picking up the other, much smaller metal tech case.

“No I got it Mister Pike!” Jim grins as he nearly falls over backwards under the weight.

* * *

There’s not exactly an abundance of restaurants or diners in Tarsus Main, but Pike and Boyce find one of the only two anyway and drag Jim along with them. There’s no blue orange juice this time, but there are purple and red nachos with chillies on that make Jim go bright red and beg for a glass of milk.

And there’s ice-cream too, in lots of galactic flavours. Jim’s allowed to get a big bowl with a small scoop of almost every type, and he shovels through them all with relish.

“The Earf ‘ocolate s’ill th’ bes’ though,” Jim gabbles around his last mouth full.

“What now?” Boyce asks as he rather more neatly finishes his own desert off; strappleberries and risan cream. 

“He said, “The Earth chocolate is still the best though,”” Pike repeats for him, watching the two of them from his side of the small round table with a fond smile. He’s leaning back with his arms crossed across his chest, and Jim grins back at him.

“I knew you could speak Standard, Klingon, Swedish, and bits of Vulcan Chris,” Boyce chuckles, “But the fluency in ice-cream mouth is news to me.”

“tlhIngan Hol Dajatlh'a'!?” Jim splutters excitedly in Klingon, not having had a partner to practice with other than Hoshi.

“wa' DeQ naQ chaq qaStaHvIS xeno Hol graduate vo' ra' DuSaQ Daghaj.”

“Once again. A-what now?” Boyce snorts.

Jim and Pike just grin at the other man mischievously.

* * *

Jim Comms Hoshi and gains permission to stay with the two men in the hostel for the night. Pike and Boyce were both dubious about it, as neither of them have an abundance of furniture in their assigned rooms, but Jim just looks at them sadly until they agree.

“You two can just share!” Jim exclaims gleefully as they sneakily drag Boyce’s mattress into Pike’s room, hoping the hostel staff don’t catch them. 

The look that Boyce and Pike give each other is comical. Jim may only be eleven, but even _he_ can recognise denial and repression when he sees it. The two officers have been looking at each other all evening the same way ‘Chiro and Aika do back on Earth, and Jim isn’t stupid. He absolutely _will_ meddle if he can. Pike is his favourite person so why shouldn’t he make him happy?

“I think you and I can top and tail it kid,” Pike suggests instead, his whole expression wary. “I think Phil and I are a bit too big for both of us to fit in one single bed.”

“But you’re really skinny!” Jim whines. “And Dr Boyce is smaller than you!”

“You just want a whole bed to yourself son,” Pike huffs with a weak smile. “Don’t think we aren’t on to your cunning plan!”

* * *

At some point during the night, Jim somehow manages to flip around in the bed. When he wakes, his, face is mashed into Pike’s bare stomach, where the man’s t-shirt has ridden up, and he’s clinging to his legs with all four of his limbs. 

He’s been drooling too…

Unsticking his face with a quiet grumble, he stretches out under the covers, hands poking up out of the top near Pike’s face.

“S’early, stop movin’,” the man in question rumbles quietly from above him, clearly not actually awake. 

Jim shuffles upwards until his nose is a mere inch from Pike’s and stares at him intently.

“But I’m hungry,” Jim whines loudly.

Pike makes a noise which sounds like a dying kitten and flops more fully onto his back, yanking the covers under his chin more tightly. Jim rolls with him so that he’s more laid on him than next to him.

“Feeeeeed me,” Jim drawls again, deliberately jabbing his elbows into the man’s ribs. 

“This is why I’m never having children,” Pike moans as his eyelids finally flicker open. “You’re a devil child.”

From the mattress on the floor beside them, Dr Boyce also rolls over with a loud but unintelligible mumble. Jim twists to peer off the edge of the bed at him, and sniggers at the way his hair is stuck up every which way.

“Your boyfriend looks like he got attacked by a caitian’s tongue,” Jim snickers when he turns back to face Pike.

“He’s not my boyfriend kid,” Pike sighs again, finally sitting up in bed. “Now go jump on him. If I have to be awake, so does he.”

* * *

After devouring an exceptionally large bacon sandwich and gleefully watch the two men glower at each other exhausted over large mugs of coffee, Jim insists on going on a short tour of the town and the research facilities. They head back to the hostel to return the stolen mattress to its rightful room and pack Boyce’s belongings first, but then Jim grabs their hands in his and charges off, aware that he’s talking a mile a minute.

“And this the main town square,” Jim gestures around him. “The big building at the back is the town hall where the Governor and his employees spend most of their time. There’s lots of other smaller rooms in their too. Offices and meeting halls and even a small lecture theatre. That’s where you’ll be teaching Mr Pike!”

“Kid you _can_ use my first name you know?” Pike smiles wistfully. “I’m glad you’re such a polite young man, but it’s not necessary to be so formal with me. You drooled on me last night for stars sake.”

“I didn’t mean too,” Jim whines, embarrassed. 

“I know son,” Pike grins back teasingly, ruffling Jim’s hair. “But I still woke up with a sticky stomach.”

To their left, Boyce suddenly chokes on a snort.

“Behave in front of the youth,” Pike mutters lowly with a disparaging but amused look.

“I don’t get it?” Jim asks curiously. “Why is that funny!?”

“Give it a few years and you’ll learn,” Boyce laughs out loud, his eyes crinkling. 

“Adult jokes are dumb,” Jim huffs. “I’m nearly twelve! You can tell me, I’m not a baby!”

“Nope, not touching that one,” Boyce laughs some more. “Come on, let’s go see this agriculture centre you’re so excited about.”

 _“Fine,”_ Jim scowls playfully. “Keep your secrets _Philip.”_

“You just got full named by a pre-teen,” Pike whispers mockingly. “Your Mama’s so proud of him.”

* * *

Only when they get to the research building ten minutes of walking later, there’s a security worker standing out by the front doors turning people away.

“What’s going on Miss Harri?” Jim asks, bouncing up to her in concern. 

“Hey Jimmy!” she greets. “Nothing important, but one of the fungal cultures got into a greenhouse. The guys who were on shift have already isolated and contained it, but the project team leaders wanted the whole building temporarily quarantined just in case. Just as an extra precaution you know?”

“We’re with Starfleet, anything we can help with?” Pike - Chris (Chris, Chris, Chris, first names now Jim) asks with a frown.

“Nah, they got it under control, but thanks for the offer sir. It’s only the one greenhouse and the biohazard procedures around here are in tip top condition.”

“Which fungus was it?” Jim asks curiously. He’s mostly been learning about the actual crops when he’s been helping out, but he knows that the centre stocks lots of fungus and bacteria samples to test the crops’ resistance with. 

“No idea Jimbo,” she smiles. “I leave the science and science names to the actual scientists. But I’m sure Jarry will tell you when next see him.”

“Guess we better find something else to do then son,” Chris consoles with a hand on his shoulder. “You can show me the labs tomorrow evening instead maybe?”

“But Phil will be gone by then,” Jim pouts. 

“I’ll try and get a day’s leave at the end of the month when we come to pick Chris up, how’s that?” Phil offers. “You can show me then.”

“I suppose so,” Jim sighs.

“How about lunch?” Chris suggests as they wave goodbye to Harri and head back towards the centre of town. 

“Yes!” Jim hisses with a grin, disappointment immediately forgotten.

* * *

Phil has orders to beam back up to his ship to ready for departure for that afternoon. Jim and Chris walk him back to the transporter zone, Jim insisting on carrying the biggest bag once again. 

“You’ll definitely get leave so I can show you the labs right?” Jim asks again just before the doctor goes to join the others beaming back up.

“Pinky promise,” Phil grins, offering up his little finger. Jim hooks it sombrely and shakes before letting himself be hooked in for a brief hug. “You look after Christopher for me yeah Jim? I want him back as much in one piece as you can manage.”

“On my life,” Jim intones seriously, keeping his face grave in the way he’s seen Starfleet officers do when they leave for space or mission. 

“I’ll see you in a month Chris,” Phil then smiles sadly as he releases Jim and hugs the Commander instead. “Don’t do anything stupid or reckless.”

“Like what?” Chris chuckles as Phil begins to step away. “It’s a Federation agriculture research colony. What’s the worst that could happen? I forgot to wear my sun screen chip, oh no I’ve gone slightly pink.”

“Don’t tease fate,” Phil grins as he steps in with the rest of the group of Starfleet officers. 

And then, with the flip of a communicator and one short spoken phrase, Phil and the others are gone in a bright swirl of energy.

* * *

Jim goes back to his usual routine after that, but spends a lot of his evenings with Chris, begging him for more stories about the universe and trying to pick his brains about tactical manoeuvres.

He doesn’t get to show him the labs as they remain closed for some reason, but the Governor releases a public statement explaining it’s just a precaution to ensure the research is unaffected, so Jim doesn’t worry too much.

The diner in the town centre than Chris has been taking Jim too a lot also closes after a week, but Yerry explains to Jim at school that it’s only temporary and only because his dad has been arguing with the distribution centre about the quality of ingredients he’s being provided. The café and the restaurant stay open, and Jim’s not actually that bothered as it means Chris comes to Hoshi’s for dinner a lot now.

* * *

But then two and a half weeks after Chris arrived on Tarsus, Jim finds out that most of the workers at the research centre have been forbidden from going back permanently. 

And then the café in the town square gets closed down and the big store in town starts imposing an item limit per person. 

“Something is not right, but no one’s telling me what,” Chris is saying to Hoshi at dinner that night. “I’ve been asking questions at the town hall, but I’m getting stonewalled.”

He and Hoshi are talking quietly while Jim sits on the floor in front of the holo screen blasting robots on a video game Chris borrowed for him; they probably think Jim isn’t listening in, but Jim learnt at a young age that it’s safer to pay attention to whispered conversations. He’s still not gotten out of the habit.

“None of my comms to ‘Chiro are getting delivered,” Jim chips in, guilty deciding to let the two adults know he’s eavesdropping. “They’re getting bounced back as soon as I hit send.”

“I can’t get through to the Yorktown either,” Chris sighs eventually after a long considering look at Jim. “Not even through the priority frequency.”

“And I have received no response from Starfleet Command or any of my contacts,” Hoshi concurs with a sad look. “We should gather up the other Starfleet officers on the colony and ascertain if we’re all having the same problem.”

“We don’t want to worry you Jim,” Chris says, suddenly turning and walking over to crouch beside him. “But you’re smart enough to have noticed that something is going on. We don’t know what yet, but I’m of the opinion that forewarned is forearmed. So I promise to keep you up to date with whatever I manage to find out okay?”

Jim nods numbly, game forgotten.

“In return can you do me a favour kid?” Chris continues. “What I want you to do is leave the worrying to me yeah? I want you to keep going to school and coming to the lectures and seminars and keep being a kid for now yeah? I’m not saying ignore what’s happening, just that you should let me be the one to deal with it okay?”

“I’ll try Mr Pike,” Jim nods seriously, slipping back into formality due to the serious atmosphere.

“I know you will son,” Chris smiles weakly, sitting down properly next to him and picking the second console control pad up.

* * *

The next morning, Jim emerges from his room in Hoshi’s cottage to find that Chris is asleep on the couch in the front room. Seeing how anxious he looks even in sleep, Jim decides to be nice for once and leave him resting. Tiptoeing into the kitchen instead, he opens up the pantry cupboard, reaching for the box of his favourite cereal.

Only to stop before his fingers touch it. 

He sighs deeply, and thinks back to having to live with Frank.

“I believe Christopher told you to leave the worrying to him Jimmy,” Hoshi says quietly, slipping into the kitchen behind him, cane in hand.

“We need to stock up on non-perishables and find somewhere to stash them,” Jim says in a cracked whisper. “Sam used to steal my food when he was desperate. I would have given him some if he’d asked, but people aren’t nice when they’re starving. We need to get lots of tins and stuff and hide them in case someone tries to take them.”

“Jim,” Hoshi says gently, slowly lowering herself into a chair at the table. “Starfleet are due back in just over a week. The Yorktown is coming back to pick up Chris and some of the other officers remember? There’s more than enough food on the colony to last until then.”

“But we have to be prepared just in case,” Jim insists, feeling old panic crawl up into his throat. “I know we do, I’ve lived this before. Mom was supposed to come back lots of times and she never did. We don’t know the Yorktown will get here on time! We have to save what food we have and protect it!”

“Hey hey hey,” Chris is suddenly saying, obviously having heard Jim’s panicked yelling and come running. “It’s alright,” he soothes, pulling Jim into a hug and stroking his overgrown hair, “Even if the Yorktown is delayed, Captain April will get worried when he doesn’t get a Comm from me asking why. That will trigger all sorts of emergency protocols and _someone_ will come investigate.”

Jim pushes against Chris harder and tries not to shudder. He knows that logically, Chris is right. That with a dozen Starfleet Officers on the colony and a score of cadets, someone will be concerned about the lack of comms soon enough. That if the Yorktown is late, they will try to connect Tarsus about it. 

But he can’t help but think _what if, what if, what if?_

* * *

Half way through the first class of the day, everyone at Jim’s school is called into the main gymnasium by the principal.

They’re all sent home and told that school is suspended due to Governor Kodos declaring a state of emergency.

The fungus contamination has gotten out of the research buildings and was never contained properly after all.

“Are you coming for the weekend tomorrow still JT?” Jim’s cousins ask him as they all trudge out of the hall.

“I don’t know,” Jim replies tiredly. “It’s up to Miss Sato and Mr Pike. I’ll send you a Comm message later once I’ve asked them.

“You can’t,” Mikey says plainly, frowning at him. “Didn't you hear? The colony’s comm signal tower and servers are broken; Mr Kodos announced that last night. We can’t get send messages or get on the Fed Net until it’s fixed.”

“We can’t even send short range comms now!?” Jim exclaims.

“Uh-huh,” Gracie nods as they pass through the school gates. “And you can’t go out after dark anymore unless you’re over standard-18 or equivalent. Mom said it’s called a curfew. It’s to keep us safe.”

“Or to stop us from finding things out,” Jim mumbles anxiously. “I don’t think I will be round tomorrow, so don’t expect me. But just in case, see you tomorrow yeah?”

“I’ll let Mom know,” Mikey smiles weakly. “At least we’ve still all got working replicators hey? Nothing to worry about yet. See you around JT!”

“Yeah. See you around.”

* * *

Struck with inspiration thanks to Mikey, Jim sets about programming Hoshi’s replicator to produce protein nibs and canned foods that afternoon while Chris and Hoshi hold some kind of meeting in Hoshi’s front room. He’s having to code the programmes manually from scratch as he can’t just download things from the disabled Fed Net right now, but Chris says one of his fellow officers will help him if he needs it.

Jim recognises a lot of the people in the cottage from his afternoons participating in the tactics and diplomacy course, and he knows a couple of them used to work at the research facility before it was closed down. Most of them are Starfleet though, and most of them are on the colony because they’re in the ‘Fleet’s Command school. 

“The Governor's men are insisting that Comms are all down because they used some of the parts to try and contain the fungus infection,” one of the Starfleet officers is saying. She’s (probably) human and Jim thinks she’s an Ensign. “I tried to get a look at the signal tower or the server room, but no such luck. Even when I told them I have a PhD in mechanical engineering and could probably fix it, the guards up at the town hall wouldn’t let me in.”

“Comms are down because Kodos wants them down,” Chris grunts. “What can we do about building our own comm signal booster? Something that will get around the short-wave frequency block Kodos is insisting doesn’t exist.”

“Doesn’t exist my ass,” an Andorian Jim thinks is called th’Nal snorts. “Starfleet Comm units work independently of signal towers. If there wasn’t a frequency block in place, we’d all be able to broadcast an SOS at least. I know we’re too far out into the galaxy to manage long range comms without more equipment, but we should be able to comm each other here on the surface!”

“I’m working on that booster,” the Ensign from before states. “But I _know_ I’m being watched. I’m having trouble getting the parts I need.”

“Maybe I could get them?” Jim calls from the kitchen, hooking his Padd to the replicator for a test run. “I’ll probably get overlooked as I’m “just a kid” right? I could play scared innocent child and then grab what you need.”

“Let’s leave that as a last resort son,” Chris calls back. “How’s the replicator going?”

“I think I’ve got it making Vulcan style protein nibs?” Jim replies. “I’m just trying the programme now.”

“I’ll go check his code,” yet another officer grunts. “I know he’s a little genius, but last thing we want is a stock of toxic food.

“They’re not gonna be toxic!” Jim protests defensively as the man stomps up to him. And actually, he’s probably a cadet not an officer. Unless he’s from a species that naturally looks really young?

“Better safe than sorry, JT my boy,” the young man smirks as he picks up Jim’s Padd. “I’m sure you’ve done great though.”

Back in the front room, the conversation has continued though, so Jim switches his concentration back to listening.

“...an advanced evolution of _Botrytis cinerea,”_ someone is now saying. “We’d never seen it before, but it was immune to all the anti-fungals we sprayed it with. We even tried injecting it with a fungal virus, which should have killed it, but all it did was absorb it and make it even _more_ resistant.”

“Did you not try plain old fire and incineration after that?”

“That’s how it got out of the initial greenhouse. When nothing was working, we expanded the quarantine zone, set up a wider biohazard area, and torched it all with white fire spirit.”

“It survived Tellerite white fire!?” Jim hears Chris gasp. “But you can melt through tritanium steel with that stuff in _seconds!”_

“As soon as the last of the flames died down, we ran tests and it was still extant. Which is when we realised the decontamination procedures we’d been using probably weren’t up to scratch. If white fire wasn’t killing it off, there was a chance the sonics weren’t either.”

“And that’s how it got into the food stores? There were spores on someone clothes or skin and they got transferred to someone at the distribution centre?” Hoshi asks.

The scientist that had been speaking sighs sadly, and Jim can hear the despair in his voice.

“It’s more likely that was done deliberately to be perfectly honest sir.”

There’s a short burst of startled questions and murmured exclamations before Chris manages to get them all quietened down again. Jim abandons his spot sat on the kitchen worktop and slides into the front room and up to Chris, who hooks an arm about his shoulder before indicating for the scientist to continue.

“If it had simply transferred out of the facility on someone’s clothes,” he begins again warily, “Then I would have expected the fields and local flora to show signs of infection long before now. But until last night, there was no sign of it. And for the food stores to have decomposed so completely, they must have been infected at least a week ago.”

“Kodos must have done it right?” Jim asks, glancing up at Chris. “But why? He needs to eat too? Why would he want us all to starve?”

“We don’t know kid, we don’t know,” Chris replies with a deep frown.

* * *

The computer engineering Cadet and Jim start working on producing the coding for a tin of plain beans once they’re sure the nibs are coming out right. Most of the other people in the cottage go out to try and get more information of find parts for the comm booster when the meeting has ended, but the scientist who was explaining the fungus sits on the couch with Hoshi and cries a lot, apologising constantly for not telling people about the problem sooner.

“Why didn’t he say anything until now?” Jim asks Chris quietly as Hoshi tries to comfort the man. 

“Kodos is making his family stay in the town hall apparently,” Chris replies equally as quietly. 

“Like- like hostages?” Jim asks horrified.

“Yeah. He was told he had to keep quiet until after they’d got rid of the fungus, and that his family wouldn’t be allowed to see him until he did. He didn’t... Outright threaten their safety, but Jor’dan was worried enough about what he might do that he did as he was told. Kodos told him he had to keep quiet so that all the civilians didn’t panic.”

“What about the other scientists?”

“We don’t know where they are kid,” Chris admits with a sad look. “Jor’dan hasn’t seen any of them since he was told to stop going to the research centre.”

“Are they still alive?” Jim asks in a cracked voice, tears threatening to spill.

“I’m sure they’re just in the town hall or something,” Chris answers. But he doesn’t look like he believes the words coming out of his mouth, so Jim doesn’t feel reassured in the slightest. “Or they’re still in the research buildings trying to find a cure, trying to-”

He cuts off mid-sentence as the power dies and all the lights flick off.

Jim looks up at Chris in fear, reminding himself that there are lots of Starfleet officers out in the town working to fix everything.

“Hoshi,” Chris says loudly, his voice sounding forcedly calm. “I’m assuming it’s not just your cottage that’s gone dark.”

“No sir,” the Cadet calls from the kitchen in a strangled voice. “I can see the whole town from here, and everything except the town hall has switched off. Even the headlights on the old tractor across the valley have gone out.”

“New rule Jim,” Chris says equally as false-levelly. “If I say run, you do so immediately and without question. You run and you hide, and you don’t come out for anyone who isn’t ‘Fleet. Not for anyone, no matter what they tell you. Understand?”

Jim grabs Chris’ hand and squeezes instead of replying verbally.

* * *

They made quite a few nibs before the power went out and the replicator switched off. Jim also goes through all the kitchen cupboards and pulls everything non-perishable out onto the table, and then sorts it all by ease of consumption. Anything that needs cooking to eat, he pushes to the left, and anything ready to eat goes on the right.

Then he sneaks into the next-door neighbours shed and borrows some hand tools.

“I’m going to pull this section of the kitchen tiling up and dig a hole under it,” Jim tells Chris as he loosens the glue along the back of skirting board. “If I panel under the tiles and hinge it on the inside, you shouldn’t be able to tell there’s a compartment under the floor just by looking. We’ll have to pad the underside to stop it sounding hollow when we walk on it, but we should be able to hide everything we need just in case. It’s better to do it in here than anywhere else because people think to check for loose floorboards. But tiles? People think they crack too easily so they don’t check them, even though it’s easy if you have the right tools. You just have to be careful and hide any dented edges under the skirting, which we’re going to stick to the floor and not the wall.”

“You’re far too good at this,” Chris tells him sadly as he inspects Jim’s hand drawn designs. 

“I had to hide things from Frank,” Jim shrugs, trying to sound uncaring and not upset. “We should put first aid supplies and some spare power cells under here too. I know we only have two phasers and one rifle between us all, but maybe we should put one of them under here too?”

“I have an old projectile handgun that Malcolm gave to me in the attic,” Hoshi tells him. “It’s only supposed to be a ceremonial weapon, but it has some ammunition packs with it. We can put that in.”

“Have you got a camping stove?” Jim asks next. “And a water purifier should be high priority too. I used to drain water out of the old heating system in Iowa. There was an old-fashioned radiator in my room. If I filtered it, I could drink without having to risk sneaking to the bathroom.”

“There’s some filter systems back in the hostel,” the computing Cadet suggests. Jim now knows his name is Steve, and he is human after all. “I saw them when I went to go and ask one of the chefs out on a date. I’m sure they won’t miss one immediately if I swiped one. And the hostel kitchens are closed, so I doubt they’ll notice me going in there.”

“Do it,” Chris nods. “And see if you can get us some more first aid supplies while you’re at it. Alright Jim, lets prise up some tiles and dig a hole.”

* * *

The front room of Hoshi’s cottage quickly becomes a miniature command centre, with piles of equipment stacked in various places. The couches are all shoved back against the wall, and more tables are brought in. One of the other cadets manages to get an actual paper map of the town and surrounding farmland, and it’s pinned up on the wall where the holoscreen used to be.

Ensign fjaKA, the engineer working on the booster, claims what was Jim’s bedroom and spreads bit of tech and wiring out all over the floor. The bed frame is flipped up against a wall out of the way, and the mattress and covers are taken to Hoshi’s room and added to the rest of the pilfered collection in there.

When Steve reappears from the hostel with the water filter and some old-fashioned pans that can be used on an open flame, Jim barely lets him finish his report to Chris before he drags the young man out into the back garden and hands him a shovel.

“What are we doing now kid?”

“Escape route. We’re gonna dig a tunnel under the back wall in case Kodos and his guards show up. They must know all us Starfleet people are holing up here by now.”

“You do realise this is quite a big wall, right? The foundations are probably pretty deep.”

“Which is why I brought you and your muscly arms out here to help me,” Jim grins cheekily. “Get started while I go dismantle Hoshi’s trellises to use as support beams.”

“Only eleven and already as bossy as a Captain,” Steve rolls his eyes. 

Jim sticks his tongue out at him because he’s mature like that.

* * *

Running water is the next commodity to suddenly cut off. 

Jim and Steve had just been washing off the last of the dirt, grit and soil off themselves in the small bathroom when the taps had gurgled and stopped flowing. They’d nearly managed to dig all the way into the overgrown garden behind Hoshi’s, but they’d been forced to stop before completing it by the arrival of nightfall. 

“No more showers and baths,” Jim says mournfully as the last drop trickles down the plug hole. 

“No more flushing toilet,” Steve adds with a grimace.

“Hoshi’s gonna get a lot of natural compost appearing in her garden,” Jim snorts. “At least we have all those full bottles of drinking water for now. And I know most of the riverbeds are dry at this time of year, but we’ll find something to use the filter with eventually.”

“Come on JT, let’s go get our share of rations. I’m starving after all that digging!”

* * *

Sleeping is… interesting.

With more than thirty adults all crowded into the small cottage and stacks of equipment everywhere, there’s not many places to lie down in. 

Some of the Starfleet officers volunteer to stay up and keep watch, citing that they naturally need much less sleep than human standard, and Chris allows them to do so after extracting a promise from them to get some rest first thing in the morning. The rest of them make as much space as they can in the front room and bedrooms, and lay out the mattresses and blankets and hunker down for the night.

Chris insists that Jim sleep right next to him, and Jim doesn’t complain. He may know a lot more about surviving food and water shortages than the rest of them, but he’s still pretty scared. Curled up against the Commander with an arm around his back and his head tucked under a chin, he feels much safer than he’s sure he would have done sleeping on his own. If Chris wants to be overprotective, Jim is inclined to let him right now.

* * *

“EVERYONE UP!”

Jim scrambles out of Chris’ arms with his heart in his throat and hastily buckles his boots. Chris had made them all sleep fully dressed just in case, and he’s glad of it now.

There is torch light shining in through the front windows. 

Jim crouches down next to Chris again when everyone else in the room also does so, ducking under the light beam and then scrambling towards the edges of the room. As soon as the light has passed over his own head, he feels Chris gripping his arm and pulling him towards the back room.

“Twelve armed guards with three vehicles in the road out front,” Lieutenant th’Nal whispers as some of the cadets slowly prise the latch on Hoshi’s bedroom window open. “They do not look like they come in peace.”

“Out back?” Chris asks, counting heads as everyone else all slowly creep into the bedroom.

“Clear.”

“How’s that tunnel you were digging kid?” Chris asks him, gripping Jim’s arm tightly still. 

“Didn’t finish it, but it’s almost through. Sides aren’t stabilised past the halfway point, and we threw tarp over the entrance to make it less obvious if any drones flew over.”

“Through enough to dig through in a hurry now?”

“Maybe,” Jim whispers back shakily. “I think there’s only a foot left to break through, but without stabilising the back section, there’s a risk it could collapse in on everyone.”

“Better than being shot at,” Chris grimaces. “Everyone out the window and to the back wall. I want absolute silence.”

There’s a round of very quietly murmured _yes sirs,_ and then Steve is the first one to hitch himself over the frame and land quietly in the flower bed on the other side. th’Nal is the next one through, and then the rest of them begin to swiftly follow.

“This is insane, I’m not a soldier,” Jor’dan shakes as he slowly raises himself up for his turn. “I’m just a botanist! I study flowers for nova’s sake!”

“Shhhh,” Jim hisses. “I’m not a soldier or an officer either, but we can do this! I’m just a kid and I’m coping! Now go on!”

“You’re Starfleet at least,” Jor’dan mutters much more quietly as he finally climbs over the sill and runs off in a crouch. “That’s one up on me. Baby officer or no.”

Chris lifts Jim over next, handing him off to th’Nal who is, it turns out, crouching down on the other side. As soon as his feet touch the ground again though, he’s darting off down the long garden into the darkness, leaving the two men to help Hoshi and the last few officers out.

When he gets to the back wall, Steve is crouched right down scraping as quietly as possible at the roof of the back of the tunnel with one of the shovels, and has several others doing so too with pieces of trellis. 

“Half a foot left I think JT,” he mumbles as Jim joins the small group scraping away loose dirt from under everyone’s feet. “How many left to get out of the house?”

“Five, including Hoshi and Chris himself. They’re coming.”

“Good, we need to get-”

Several loud bangs suddenly echo across to the tunnel, followed by lots of distance muffled shouting.

“Chris!” Jim hisses, darting towards the front of the tunnel again. “No you have to let me go!” Jim begs when someone grabs him as he tries to scramble out of the hole. “Hoshi and Chris are still over there!”

“I’m through!” Steve announces even as Jim continues to struggle. “Help me make this hole wider!”

“We can’t leave them!” Jim protests as everyone frantically claws at the earth above them, temporarily forgetting to keep quiet.

“No need, they’re coming,” someone tells him even as he’s dragged back and upwards. He doesn’t get to see anything though, before he’s shoved up through the new hole and pulled out of the tunnel from above. 

So he spends a long tense minute hiding in the overgrowth with the others as everyone else scrambles out, trying not to shake with worry and fear.

“Chris!” he squeaks when the man he was waiting for is finally pulled out of the hole, soil and rootlets clinging to his dark beige jacket and grey cargo pants. He remembers at the last instant not to shout it out loud, the name scratching out of his throat in a relieved wheeze.

Chris grabs him into a hug once he’s staggered away from the hole edge, shaking with tension and his eyes a little wild.

And that’s when he notices that Chris jacket is damp.

_Is that? Is that blood!?_

“Where’s Hoshi?” Jim asks frantically, peering at the hole from under Chris’ arms. “Where is she!? You were supposed to be bringing her! And th’Nal! You’ve got blood on you, where are they!?”

“Everyone move out!” Chris whisper frantically, scooping Jim up into his arms and setting off towards the front of the dilapidated house who’s garden they’re all crouched in. “Check the road before you step out, and then head east towards that town house we scoped out.”

“Chris where are Hoshi and th’Nal!?” Jim tries again as he throws his arms around Chris’ neck and clings on. 

Chris doesn’t answer and keeps jogging, the rest of the group hurriedly falling in behind them.

* * *

Eventually, Chris puts Jim down and lets him jog along under his own steam. They dart through people’s gardens as they run, staying off open roads as they go, until they end up in the more built up area of the town. 

They never round a corner or step out into the open without checking a dozen times for observers first.

There’s no one out in the streets except for human men dressed in all black and carrying phaser rifles. 

Throughout it all, Chris holds Jim’s hand in an iron grip.

* * *

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND GET ON THE GROUND!”

“Fuck,” Chris swears emphatically from next to him as they all stagger suddenly to a stop.

First dawn is breaking over the far hill, spilling its blood red sunlight down onto them. 

“Sir? What do we do sir?” Steve asks, having moved to hover protectively over Jim. 

Chris looks back over his shoulder and then up at the roof tops above them. Jim copies him and sees the black clad men closing in all around them.

“Through that door!” he hisses with a wave of his left shoulder. “Go slow and no sudden movements. 

“YOU HAVE 10 SECONDS TO COMPLY OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE!” The same man as before shouts towards them. “THESE ARE PROJECTILE WEAPONS AND I AM AUTHORISED TO USE DEADLY FORCE!”

A small red dot appears on Jim’s chest.

“Chris,” he whines high pitched, terrified as his muscles seize up in panic. 

“Everyone stand still,” Chris suddenly changes his mind with panic visible in own eyes. “Do as they say, hands up, on your knees!”

“THREE SECONDS OR THE KID IS THE FIRST ONE HIT! THREE! TWO! ONE!”

Chris drops to the floor like a stone suddenly, dragging Jim with him.

Above them, Steve screams. 

Jim clings to Chris in utter terror as the rest of the Starfleet group also fall down around them.

Some of them not through their own choice, more pained cries cutting out into gurgles.

The air smells metallic with the tang of blood as silence finally falls around them, broken only by Jim’s scared panting.

* * *

Jim has Steve’s blood on his clothes and hands as he’s shoved through the streets at gunpoint, Chris being dragged along in front of him.

They’d left Steve where he was lying on the dusty road. Eyes staring blankly at the sky.

* * *

As they come closer to the square in the centre of town, they see more and more people. The black clad guards herd them along as families and couples and children and adults are ordered from their houses and told to assemble in the square out the front of the government building. 

“This is not good,” Jor’dan whimpers from somewhere close by. “Why are they all following these orders willingly!”

“They don’t know better yet,” Jim replies dully as he’s jabbed in the back again for not walking quite quick enough. He stumbles as the butt of the rifle cracks against his spine, but he forces himself to stay on his feet.

* * *

They pass a wooden cart as they’re slowly forced further and further into town, laden down with stacks of tins and jars and boxes. Two men kick their way out of another house as they pass, a young woman begging them not to take her food as she cries.

“Go to the town square with everyone else. Martial Law and rationing is now in effect,” they tell her. “The Governor is going to distribute the remaining food out to everyone equally,” they say. “If you want your share, you have to go to the main town square.”

Jim keeps his head down and forces himself not to scream _Liars!_

* * *

When they finally reach it, the large open in space in front of the government buildings and Town Hall is predictably crowded. Thousands of people are milling about, fear and unease roiling through the crowd in palpable waves. 

The guards escorting them drop Chris as they arrive at the edge of the mass of people, and he flops to the floor with a groan. Jim runs to him immediately, closely followed by Ensign fjaKA.

“I’m okay son,” he groans entirely unconvincingly as Jim helps him sit up right.

“They hit you in the face with a gun!” Jim protests, trying to wipe some of the blood off the man’s forehead with the edge of his t-shirt. “And they jabbed you with that electric stick!”

“It’s called a taser,” fjaKA grimaces, shielding them getting trampled on by the surging crowd around them. “Nasty little devices, been illegal for almost 100 years now.”

“Sir! There’s a stage been built in front of the Town Hall,” one of the cadets calls, cradling his sprained arm with a grimace. “There’s more of the guard wonnabes up there, and some officials wearing their ceremonial white tabards.”

“Get us closer,” Chris groans, using fjaKA’s arm to pull himself back to his feet. He wobbles precariously once he’s upright, so Jim grabs his middle to try and stabilise him. 

“Yes sir,” several of the cadets chant back, arranging themselves into a triangle formation and beginning to wedge their way into the crowd. Jim follows as closely as he can, he and fjaKA holding up Chris between them.

“JT!” someone suddenly shouts as they begin to near the middle of the square where the crowd is densest. “JT! Over here!”

“Mikey?” Jim calls back, trying to peer through the people around him. But he’s too short compared to all the adults and all he can see are more chests and heads pressing in around him.

“By the statue!” Mikey’s voice calls “Mom and Gracie are here too!”

“Cadets take us over,” Chris orders, clearly having been paying attention to Jim’s yelling. Another aye sir is called back, and they suddenly begin to veer off towards the right. In less than a minute, they reach the base of the Tarsus statue, the large marble-esque figure of Professor Tarsus for whom this solar system was named towering over them.

“My goodness, what happened?” Miss Davies, Gracie and Mikey’s mother gasps when she spots them. “Is that _blood!?”_

“The guards are evil buttheads,” Jim spits viciously, still helping hold Chris upright. 

“But this meeting was only called to organise food distribution,” she states in obvious confusion. “I saw them wheeling some of the carts of food up onto the stage earlier. They’re going to make sure we all get a fair amount.”

“No they’re not,” Chris groans. “Or they wouldn’t have just shoved us into the crowd with the rest of you. They already… Not all of our group made it here, and not because we left anyone behind.”

“They killed Hoshi and Steve,” Jim hiccups as tears prickle at his eyes. “And th’Nal and Jor’dan and Ziggy and Peterson!”

“Oh my dear,” Miss Davies gasps again, a hand coming to cover her mouth as she moves forward to try and hug Jim despite him still being under Chris’ arm.

“Mom I’m scared,” Gracie whines as the uncertain murmuring of the crowd around them continues to rise in volume. 

“There’s a cellar tunnel under the restaurant in the next square over,” Miss Davies says determinedly after a long moment, her back straightening with purpose. “We just have to make our way over there and we can get to edge of the town centre unseen. It comes up by the public fitness centre, and I doubt the Governor's men know about it. _I_ only know about it because I worked at the restaurant for a few months when the colony was founded, before we got our farmland. It was supposed to be a service tunnel, but it got closed up when they built the gym complex.”

“We might have trouble getting out of this main square sir,” fjaKA states with a dubious look at the narrow street leading in the right direction. 

“We have to try, let’s go!” Chris calls, already trying to turn around and-

“What the fuck!” one of the cadets yelps as several _loud_ clatters echo around them. 

They stand and watch in horror as rubble is suddenly beamed into all five streets leading out of the square, effectively barricading everyone in. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, people of Tarsus IV!” a voice booms across the panicking crowd from the wooden stage at the front. “Our guide and beacon of hope in these dire times is about to come forward and address you. Please, a moment of silence so our Governor Kodos may speak to you all!”

Jim’s head swivels back towards the stage so fast he risks whiplash, as an unnatural hush falls over everyone. Chris pulls him tighter against his side, and Gracie and Mikey both huddle closer to their mom with tear streaked faces.

And then another figure steps onto the stage, his image projected into the air behind him by blurry holoprojectors.

“The revolution is successful!” he calls, and Jim feels a shudder slide down him at the ice in that voice. “But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV.”

The crowd around them panics as the final word echoes over the tannoy system.

Jim screams into Chris’ chest as bullets and phaser beams begin blasting into the people all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klingon translations:  
> Jim: _You can speak Klingon!?_  
>  Chris: _You have to have a least one full credit in a xeno language to gradute Command School._
> 
> So um. Definitely more than 3 chapters.... the original plan had them rescued by now lmao.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm I should remind you at this point, that this a Tarsus IV fic and I haven't spared on the detail.

Screams and cries rend the air, and Jim lies underneath Pike with his eyes screw shut.

“Stay down, stay down, I got you, stay down,” Chris is chanting quietly on loop. “Stay still and don’t move, I got you, stay down!”

Jim pulls his arms down from around Chris’ back and whimpers as a heavy body thuds down on top of them and stays there, blood dripping hotly down onto their entwined legs.

“We’re gonna play dead okay?” Chris is now saying frantically, not trying at all to hide his own panic. “We’re gonna stay perfectly still and wait until everything has gone quiet. Just stay down, I got you Jimmy.”

Jim bites off another whimper, smothering it into the pressing weight of Chris’ chest as someone else gurgles and goes still right next to them.

* * *

They don’t move, breathing so quietly they’re barely breathing at all.

It has been silent for what feels like hours. Has definitely been several hours.

The suns of double noon burn down on them, heating up the corpses piled around them. The air is hot and acrid, already beginning to thicken with the scent of decay, blood congealing and blackening in mass pools. 

Jim’s legs have cramped up, aching agony lancing in sharp tongues up his muscles as sensation comes and goes. He daren’t complain though, or so much as shift to try and relieve the pain. Nor dare he attempt to shuffle under Chris and relieve any of the pressure crushing down against his chest, restricting his breathing and numbing his arms. 

Every now and then, Chris taps twice on his wrist, a subtle reminder that he’s there and still alive with him. 

Men walked around them to begin with once the screams had all descended into agonised groans and weak cries. Slowly, those too were cut off as more bullets were shot into survivors unlucky enough to be found still alive. And then the footsteps of the guards too ended, leaving not a sound echoing over the massacred people.

* * *

About an hour ago, just as both suns were simultaneously nearing the end of their crests, they’d heard someone else who’d chosen to lie still among the fallen masses trying to make a break for it. Jim had felt Chris tense ever so slightly above him, as the young man had crawled past them, nearly going right over the top of them, but he still hadn’t moved. 

The heart broken sobbing and begging several minutes later had shown them both that the guards were still alert and on the lookout. 

The distinctive _rat-tat-tat_ of a projectile weapon followed by a harrowing cry had shown that they were still not merciful.

“Midnight,” Chris had breathed so quietly Jim wonders if he imagined it after the sound of a body slumping to the floor had reached them, after the sound of harsh laughter and jeering had washed over them once again. 

Jim had tapped twice back and neither of them had moved or spoken since.

* * *

The suns of double noon burn down upon them, heating up the corpses around them. The air is hot acrid with the smell of fresh decay, blood pooling and congealing all around them.

* * *

Darkness is slow to fall, and Jim has almost passed out more times than he dares to contemplate. Numbness has sunken into every part of his body, even the cramps of his legs lost to the complete lack of sensation. 

Chris has definitely fallen into unconsciousness a couple of times, his whole body going even slacker above him and his breathing becoming more ragged, less tightly controlled. Jim tries not to panic when it happens, reminding himself that they’re hidden underneath more bodies, that no one can see the faint, barely there movement of Chris chest as he’s face down and covered. 

That the town around them has grown quieter and quieter as night has drawn in, that’s there’s probably no one left to observe them.

The clock tower on the town hall finally chimes, ringing out high-night, Tarsus’ equivalent of midnight with its twenty-six hours and fifteen-minute day-night cycles. 

“Not yet,” Chris mumbles as the last of the three bell chimes ring out into the silence. 

Jim taps Chris’ wrist twice.

* * *

Only when they hear cheering rise up in the distance, and the smell of wood smoke begin to drift over them, do they finally move. 

Slowly, oh ever so slowly, Chris shifts the two bodies on top of them until he’s hovering shakily above Jim on his knees and elbows. Jim quietly gasps in shuddering breaths as his bruised and crushed chest can finally expand outwards properly again. 

“Roll over and then stay behind me,” Chris whispers when they finally feel stable enough to crawl and the pins and needles racing along Jim’s limbs have dulled to a quiet static. “Stay down on your stomach, don’t reach up, don’t look up, and grab my ankle if you see or hear anything. No talking, no stopping unless I do first. If I flop and stop moving, you do so too immediately. No sudden movements, don’t pick anything up.”

Jim nods tensely, still lying on his back under Chris, one hand clenched in the man’s bloodied and stiff t-shirt. 

“I’ll be right here all the time,” Chris continues, his voice cracking he’s speaking so quietly. “I’ve got you Jimmy, we’re getting out of here.”

Jim nods again, taking in a final deep shuddering breath before he flips slowly onto his stomach, almost biting through his lip to make sure he doesn’t cry out in pain.

* * *

Their progress is slow.

Chris is apparently insisting on going around any piles of bodies that are more than two people high, so they’re forced to weave around all over the place, slowly creeping towards the western buildings. They don’t speak as they crawl on their stomachs, and Chris doesn’t look back as they move. 

Whenever there’s so much as a distant whistle, they both freeze and lets themselves go limp where they lie, breathing choked up and frozen in fear.

Which is why it takes Jim several seconds of tense stillness, hearing on high alert, to realises that what he can hear is his own name being near-silently gasped in frantic panic.

“JT!” the voice is saying, the sound blending into the same dusty night-chilled breeze carrying the smell of bonfires to them. “JT, we’re stuck!”

“Stay there!” Chris suddenly whispers harshly, turning so that their heads are once again next to each other. His hand pats over Jim’s head, tacky blood flaking off into his grimy hair as he taps twice above his ear. 

Jim nods silently, their eyes meeting in the near pitch black in the seconds before Chris is then slowly dragging himself towards the sound of the child’s voice.

* * *

The man doesn’t go far enough to leave Jim’s sight, wriggling up carefully to one of the bigger piles of bodies. With a surreptitious glance around that leaves Jim’s heart in his throat at how high he raises his head, Chris carefully reaches up and starts to roll the top body off. A full minute later, and he’s managed to lower it carefully to one side, so that he can begin to do the same to the woman beneath them. 

But before he’s done more than grasped her arm, there’s a faint whimper that bounces over the massacred people to Jim.

“Momma!” he recognised the single terrified word.

Both Chris and Jim freeze as the smaller of the two trapped boys utters the two lone syllables, both of them straining their hearing into the darkness around for any hint they might have been detected. 

But nothing happens.

No one grunts or shifts, there are no footsteps or sudden cries of alarm. Nothing but the still rising wind and the distant sounds of disgustingly morbid celebration.

After another long tense minute, Jim sees Chris finally raise one hand to his face, presumably putting a finger to his lips, before once again reaching up and beginning to tug slowly on the unfortunate lady’s arm. 

Eventually Jim can stand it no longer and creeps forward to help.

Chris shoots him an unimpressed look when he slithers up beside him, but Jim only looks back at him equally mulish and reaches up to tap twice behind Chris’ ear. Together, they carefully manage to free the two boys, one of whom Jim now recognises as Tommy Leighton from school. 

Chris puts his finger to his lips again before they once again start to crawl towards the nearest buildings, Jim silently insisting that Tommy and the young pre-schooler go before him so that he’s bringing up the rear. Despite his very real fears, the small boy is utterly silent as they inch forward, somehow managing to be the quietest of them all.

Jim prays he stays that way.

* * *

It must be almost another hour before they manage to huddle together against the wall of one of the buildings. Chris looks exhausted, slouching against the roughhewn stone and concrete wall with his head drooped almost to his chest. “Smalls” has curled up in Tommy’s lap, while the dark-skinned teen silently caresses his hair, eyes darting around frantically in the darkness. 

Jim shudders as the wind picks up even more, chilling his bare arms and shins.

“C’m’here,” Chris mumbles nearly unintelligibly, his arms held out in the universal sign for a hug. “Five mins and we’ll climb up t’ roof.”

Jim shuffles gratefully over to him, and shudders as he sinks into Chris’ warm arms.

* * *

The ascent up to the rooftops is as slow and arduous as their passage from the middle of the square was. Smalls has to be carried most of the way up the rubble pile dumped into one of the streets out of the square, and everyone’s limb shake with more than just fear as they make their way up.

They’re all bone-weary, in pain, dehydrated and hungry.

And once they’re finally at the top, they still have to face the fact that their escape has still only just begun. 

“Back to Hoshi’s, get our hidden stash, hide in the farmlands,” Chris mutters as they crawl across the tiles away from the town centre and the burning glow of distant fires. “Finish the signal booster, get an SOS out.”

“Bet there’s stuff at my aunt’s farm,” Jim whispers back, glancing back to make Tommy and Smalls are still following. “Forest and mountains beyond there. Bet there’s caves.”

“Hoshi’s, stash, Davies farm, forest, cave,” Chris agrees as peers over a low wall to make sure the way ahead is still clear. “We can do this,” he swallows harshly. “I got you, we can do this.”

* * *

The red sun has begun to rise again when they finally stagger back into the overgrown garden behind Hoshi’s cottage. The hole into the tunnel is still open and the foliage around it no more disturbed than they had already left it. Chris pauses as he stands looking down into it.

“Maybe you should stay here with the other kids,” the unsteady officer suggests, his gaze going distant and unseeing. “I’ll only be 10 minutes while I grab the rucksacks from under the kitchen floor.”

 

“Tommy and Kevin should stay here and keep watch,” Jim retorts calmly, now knowing Smalls’ actual name. “You’ll need helping to carry everything.”

Chris sighs resignedly but waves him forward before dropping down into the hole.

* * *

They go back in through the still open bedroom window, and Jim forces his eyes not to look at the unmoving th’Nal as they creep through the garden. 

He can’t help but stare when they get into the bungalow though, and Hoshi’s lifeless eyes greet him from the hallway.

“In and out, essentials only,” Chris shudders when he’s managed to tear his own gaze away from the old and fearless linguist. “Stay away from the front windows and try not to stand on any of the shattered glass or shards of clear aluminium. You think there’s something we should add to our gear, tell me as soon as you think of it.”

“In, out, run for the hills,” Jim nods in solemn agreement. 

Chris slides a hand over his head again, tapping twice before moving quickly towards the kitchen.

* * *

Rucksacks and comm booster device, carry case with the water filter in it, a change of clothes each grabbed, and a bottle of hand sanitiser Jim remembered was in the bathroom collected later, and the two them clamber back out into the back garden again and jog back to the tunnel under the back wall.

Tommy and Kevin have rather sensibly moved back away from the hole when they climb back out, hiding in one of the larger untrimmed bushes that’s just starting to go grey with fungus. They only come staggering back out once they’re sure Jim and Chris haven’t been followed, and then Tommy picks up Kevin in a piggy back. 

“Where to Captain?” Tommy asks gravelly, Kevin watching with wide eyes over his shoulder.

“I’m not a Captain,” Chris huffs back with a small amount of actual amusement as they sneak back onto the back road and into the yard of the house opposite.

“Congratulations, you just got promoted,” Tommy deadpans, making Kevin giggle.

“Oh look Jim, you have a clone,” Chris deadpans too as he pushes a hole through the back hedge and scrabbles his way into the decaying field beyond.

* * *

It takes them most of the morning to trek out to Jim’s family’s farm, sticking close to the mouldering hedgerows and away from the roads the entire way. They don’t see or hear anyone as they walk in a slow trudge, and only the occasional quiet trill of the native bird-like creatures disturbs the quiet.

The wind dropped into stillness again as the suns approached noon, robbing them of even that small comfort as their skin prickled in the heat. Chris still has his sunscreen chip, having retrieved it from his duffel bag back at Hoshi’s cottage. But Jim and Chris had taken one look at each other and then at little blonde haired and fair skinned Kevin, and the chip had been clipped to the small boy’s collar.

Consequently, they’re all thirsty and sunburnt by the time they stumble in through the Davies’ front door, left jammed open.

“Check the taps kid,” Chris gasps as he drops his rucksack and the metal filter case to the floor. “Water might still be on all the way out here. If not, see what kind of heating or cooling system this place has. We might be able to use your radiator water trick. 

“On it sir,” Jim intones. “But only if you go sit down and drink some water while I look.”

“Sounds like a grand plan,” Chris groans, obviously in pain as he steps back and then sinks jerkily to sit on the bottom of the staircase. “Tommy bring Kev over here, let’s sort out something to eat.”

“I’ll be five minutes,” Jim states, headed for the kitchen. “This place has obviously already been raided for food, but that doesn’t mean Kodos’ guards won’t come back.”

* * *

Jim steps into the master bedroom, intending on checking the cupboard where the house’s computer banks are installed for anything that might be useful when hears the whimper.

Swivelling on the spot and then dropping to the floor, he peers under the bed with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, holding his hand out. “It’s me, Jimmy.”

“JT?” the ten-year-old girl shudders, her tear streaked face dusty and bruised. From behind her, a small Vulcan boy peers over her shoulders with obvious fear.

“Yeah Emily, it’s okay you can come out. Commander Pike from Starfleet is downstairs with Tommy. We’re going to go hide in the mountains and Comm Starfleet.”

“Starfleet are gonna come save us?” she whispers with too much hope.

“Chris and I are gonna make sure of it,” Jim stays firmly as Emily finally begins to crawl out from under the bed, the Vulcan boy coming slowly too.

* * *

“And then there were six,” Chris smiles weakly as Jim leads the two kids back down into the hallway, his arms laden with wiring and circuit chips. 

“This is Emily and Tavek,” Jim informs him, pulling the empty bag he found off his shoulder and beginning to shove his new loot into it. “Tavek has been staying with Emily’s family while his parents returned to Vulcan to file their research with the VSA. When Emily’s parents didn’t come back from town yesterday, they came over to find Miss Davies. Only when they got here, the house was empty and had already been ransacked.”

“We didn’t know where else to go,” Emily sniffles, her nose running. “And then you came into the house and we didn’t know who you were, so we hid!”

“It was logical to remain unseen until we were sure of your intentions,” Tavek says quietly, his traditional dark robe pulled down tight over his hands.

“You did good,” Chris tells the two children, wincing as he pushes himself back to his feet. He teeters despite gripping the stair rail hard and placing his other hand on the wall, so Jim reaches out and wraps on arm around his middle to stabilise him.

“I’m okay son,” Chris tries to reassure, but Jim can see the way pain is pinching his brow and narrowing his eyes. 

“Yeah, and I’m Buddy Mary,” Jim retorts sarcastically. “Come on, we should go before it starts getting dark again.”

* * *

The night wind is whipping around them and stinging against their sun reddened arms by the time darkness forces them to stop. Tarsus IV does not have a true moon, only a shattered chunk of asteroid that has not yet settled into a true orbit about the planet, so when both suns have set, there is little to offer illumination. 

They haven’t found any real shelter yet, despite having meandered quite a way along the base of the mountains, but they do find a sheltered natural alcove surrounded by weeping trees, grey sludge starting to trickle out from under the bark.

“I always found it strange,” Jim comments quietly as he sits huddled against Chris’ side. “Hodgkin’s law of parallel development. That so many lifeforms would follow similar evolutions paths with so few variations despite the vastness of the universe. We’re hundreds of life years from Earth, and yet here the plant life is still chlorophyll green, still has oval shaped leaves, and stalks and stems and roots designed to transport water and aid photosynthesis.”

“And there’s always some form of birds or similar flying creature,” Chris smiles wistfully. “Like life is always destined to conquer the air somehow. Every M class planet I’ve seen has some kind of bird, with or without feathers.”

“Fish,” Jim adds. “If there’s water there’s fish or bivalves and shrimp.”

“Life’s extraordinary like that,” Chris chuckles. “For all our differences in beliefs, in origin, in technology, we’re all the same at our core. Go to sleep Jim, I’ll keep watch.”

“Wake me up in a few hours,” Jim mumbles, dropping his head onto Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t go staying awake all night again. S’not good for you.”

“Promise,” Chris whispers as Jim lets exhaustion take him.

* * *

Chris isn’t getting any better, Jim notes with some concern as they peer into the deep crevice disappearing into the cliff. 

He’d groaned in his sleep several times throughout the night, his face screwed up in pain as he lay with his head in Jim’s lap and Kevin curled against his chest. And now he’s shivering and his eyes are glazing over.

“Don’t touch anything until we know the walls are stable,” the man is instructing them now, sweat trickling down his forehead and his hands trembling ever so slightly. “The last thing we need right now is to cause a cave-in.”

“Stay behind Chris,” Jim also joins in. “If you hear anything creak or groan, stop and grab the ankle of the person in front of you. I’m going to be at the back of the group bringing our bags with us; don’t worry if I start to fall behind a little.”

“Tommy and Emily, you’re in charge of helping Kevin,” Chris retakes over. “Tavek, come in behind me and watch over my shoulder. Your eyesight is naturally much better than mine. If you see anything, tell me immediately okay? Let’s do this.”

“We’re going in th’ cave?” Little Kevin gasps. “Momma said not to go in th’ caves! ‘Cause we might get uhhh…? Stuck!” 

“Not gonna let that happen little man,” Chris reassures, reaching out to ruffle the small boy’s hair.

* * *

About thirty metres into the narrow space, the ceiling suddenly rises and allows them all to stand up. Another ten and the walls start to diverge too, until it suddenly opens up into a wide cavernous space with a waterfall trickling slowly down the back wall and down under the floor. There’s a single crack in the high ceiling, no wider than a hand and covered with what look like vines.

“Bingo,” Chris breathes in obvious relief as they all shuffle in, the sand and dust floor stirring around them. 

“So long as it doesn’t rain really hard, this will be great,” Jim agrees, eyeing the slit the water is trickling down through and concluding the cavern will be structurally stable. 

“Jim come set the water filter up with me so we can refill our bottles. Tommy, try and get Kev to take a nap. Emily empty all the bags out and stack everything on that natural rock shelf off the floor. Tavek-”

“I will return to the cave’s entrance and observe the valley below. We are some distance from Tarsus Main, but it would be wise to keep an eye out for any passing individuals.”

“Okay yeah, you do that,” Chris agrees tiredly, “Just don’t go out of the tunnel entrance and come straight back in if you see anything.”

“I got this, you need to sleep more,” Jim insists as he undoes the clasps on the makeshift filter case and Tavek strides back along the way they came. 

“I’m okay Jim,” Chris insists, but Jim doesn’t believe him for a second. 

“You’re not,” he hisses back, wary of upsetting the other kids. “You’re shaking and beginning to develop a fever. What injury are hiding from me?”

“Jim-”

“I promised Phil I would keep you in once piece. Where did you get hurt?”

Chris sighs deeply, glancing over his shoulder to where Tommy is cradling Kevin again and singing to him quietly. After looking over his other shoulder to make sure Emily isn’t paying attention either, he bites his bottom lip and slowly lift the left side of his grimy t-shirt up.

“Shit!” Jim spits with wide eyes. “Is that a burn!?”

“From the taser,” Chris says lowly. “I thought it would be okay as my skin didn’t get broken, but I think it’s somehow gotten infected anyway.”

“We need to get you some antibiotics you idiot,” Jim growls, mind rapidly pulling up everything he knows about first aid. Thankfully, thanks to Frank’s actions, Jim had made sure to learn quite a lot so that he could treat himself.

“I already looked in the first aid kit we got,” Chris sighs tiredly, letting himself sink to the floor beside the open filter case. “We don’t have any. Speaking of, we should wrap your ribs. Don’t think I didn’t notice you breathing funny all day yesterday. Having me lie on top of you for more than sixteen hours has got to have done some damage.”

“Nothing’s broken,” Jim grunts back. “I know what to feel for, there’s no cracks, they’re only bruised.”

“I’d feel better if you let me check too,” Chris asks with a pleading look. “I know you can take care of yourself kid, but humour me.”

“Okay, but we’re getting this filter assembled first, and then you’re going to let me disinfect your side too.”

“Deal,” Chris smiles weakly.

* * *

“Tommy, we got a problem,” Jim mumbles to the slightly older boy. 

“We got several actually -most of them starting with geno and ending with cide, but I’m listening,” Tommy huffs back wryly.

“Your dad is- was a vet right?” he asks cautiously.

“Yeah and?” Tommy scowls.

“So he had access to antibiotics and painkillers, right?”

“He had a lot stored at his practice yeah? Why?”

Jim pauses and glances over to where Chris is once again sleeping fitfully with Kevin cuddling him. 

“Chris is hurt, he needs medicine.”

“I’d guessed as much JT,” Tommy frowns. “He’s trying to hide it, but he’s got a fever hasn’t he?”

“Infected burn on the left side of his chest,” Jim nods with a stricken look.

“That’s… not good,” Tommy gulps. “Da always said that infections could lead to blood poisoning if you didn’t treat them right.”

“The veterinary practice he owned. It’s right on the edge of town right? Where it was easier for farmers to bring their livestock to?”

“Yeah, on the northern edge.”

“Did it get raided? I bet Kodos took everything from the doctor’s surgery and the medcentre, but what if he forgot about the livestock vets?”

“You want to sneak out and get medicine!?” Tommy gasps unhappily. “Are you insane!? What if you get caught!?”

“Either I take a risk or Chris definitely dies,” Jim mumbles with another look back at the sleeping man.

“You said the USS Yorktown was coming in a week!”

“I said it _should_ be here in a week. And even if it _does_ get here on time, what if Chris doesn’t last that long? It’s only been two days and look at him already!”

Tommy looks over Jim’s head quickly, his eyes darting between the grown man and the child huddled against him.

“Okay,” he says lowly when he glances back to Jim. “But I’m coming with you. I know more about what stuff we should take and where Da kept the key scanner for the secure cabinet and stuff.”

Jim thinks about objecting for a second, his mouth opening to protest, but then he sighs in frustration and shoves his hair out of his eyes again.

“Fine; we can carry more stuff if there’s two of us anyway. We should try and get more food too.”

“Let me tell Emily and then we can go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back and help your Chris.”

* * *

Jim takes Hoshi’s gun and one of the boxes of ammo. He checks that the safety is on like Chris had shown him, and then tucks it into the front of his shorts with his t-shirt pulled down over it.

Tommy has a whispered conversation with Emily while Jim then grabs the two now empty rucksacks, and then they turn and crawl out towards Tavek.

* * *

They head straight towards the town instead of meandering along the base of the mountains like they had before, so it takes them just under six hours before they’re cautiously approaching the first houses on the outskirts. 

They then go round the outside of the town, often following dirt tracks left by tractors as they cautiously creep towards the northern quarter. Night fell some time ago, but they dare not use the torch they brought for fear it would draw attention to them. Instead, they stick close together, grabbing each other whenever one of them stumbles in the darkness. 

“We need to head inwards now,” Tommy whispers as they approach one of the main roads, the duramac unlit by the street lights above and dust and decaying crop matter blowing across it.

“Not on the road,” Jim mumbles back, glancing back the way they came. He spots a sagging tree overhanging a fence, visible only because it blocks out a portion of the starry sky with its silhouette. “Come on, we can get into that garden there.”

In short order, they’re slinking across someone’s back yard, hands and shins and clothes coated in dusty grey crumbling mould. 

“Gonna have to wash this off before we touch anything,” Tommy grunts, trying to rub his hands clean on his filthy jeans.

“We’ll do it when we get to your dad’s place,” Jim mumbles, peering around the edge of the house into the cul-de-sac they’re now in. “Which way now?”

* * *

The vet’s is locked up and as dark as everything else around them when they finally dart up to the back of the building. 

“Budge over, I know the code,” Tommy mutters as they crawl up the metal fire escape stairs to the rear door. 

“No point,” Jim replies quickly. “Electronic lock and the powers out. Not getting in there without breaking the door down.”

“Well how do we get in then?” Tommy frowns. 

“Break that window. I hope its glass and not clear aluminium.”

* * *

They’re lucky. 

Both in the sense that the window is easy to smash and that they manage to do it quietly. 

Tommy jogs straight to the storage room and begins picking through boxes of blister packs and hypos once they’ve rinsed their hands and arms, while Jim shoves loads of disposable gloves, steri wipes, bandages and gauze into his bag.

Then they creep down the stairs to the ground floor and into the staff break room. 

There’s not much to be had, but they do get several bags of crisps and chips, some chocolate bars, a box containing two unopened instant porridge packets, some tea bags, and a jar of stir in coffee grounds that Chris will probably kiss him for.

It all goes in their bags too, and once Tommy has snagged a dermal regenerator and a spare power cell, they hurry back upstairs and out onto the fire escape.

* * *

They don’t see or hear anyone as they trek back through the rotting fields, mush squelching under their feet and grey dust coating their shins. Jim hitches his tee up over his mouth and nose as they walk hurriedly, trying to stop himself from breathing in the particles.

Even the grass around the mountains has started to turn to slime when they make it back to the cliff face with the cave entrance at its base. It takes them almost an hour to find the right cliff in the darkness, no landmarks visible to guide them.

Tavek is still sat alert in the mouth when they finally stumble upon the right place, his eyes open and staring intently despite his otherwise relaxed meditation pose.

“The Commander has been indulging in some great displays of emotion,” he tells them tonelessly as he shuffles aside to let them pass. “He was most distraught and unhappy upon learning of your leaving. Only Kevin was able to calm him from his anger at you both, and to do so the small human child had to do a great deal of crying.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Jim grimaces, clapping Tavek on the shoulder as he crawls past.

“You are welcome JT,” Tavek frowns with a confused look at the hand resting on him.

* * *

“What the fuck were you thinking!?” Chris is shouting, his angry tone somewhat negated by his defeated slouch and slight pained slur. “What if you’d been caught! What if you’d been followed back!? What if-!”

“Shut up,” Jim commands, putting a hand over Chris’ mouth. “You need treatment and now we can give it to you. We got some extra food, more first aid supplies, and if you ask nicely and behave, I will make you a cup of coffee.”

“I was so worried about you,” Chris cracks when Jim finally moves his hand, distress colouring his face.

“Good,” Jim jokes. Tries to joke. “Fear is what’s going to keep us alive. Take your shirt off and let Tommy and I have a look at you.”

* * *

They fall into a strange sort of routine over the next few days. 

Chris is slow to recover despite Tommy constantly fussing over him, watching the angry red colour slowly fade from his chest. Consequently, Jim does most of the organising, showing Emily how to light the little peri-crystal stove and how to work the water filter pump. Kevin is given the job of making sleeping mats and then organising and reorganising their supplies to keep him occupied, while Jim himself continues trying to get the comm booster working.

The dermal regenerator unfortunately, turns out to have a flat battery.

The spare power cell too, has been drained.

“When the power went off, Kodos must have knocked out everything electronic, not just the main supply grid,” Chris muses as he holds tools for Jim. He’s not much of an engineer or technician himself, but he does know enough of the basics to help.

“Makes sense,” Jim grunts as he tries to fix a stray wire to an amplifier chip; a difficult job with no way of soldering. “Steve said when all the lights went off, all the vehicle headlights went out too. I’m surprised our torch still works.”

“I guess he used some kind of electro-magnetic pulse?” Chris hazards. “And he must have shielded the area around the- the- the town hall,” he stutters, eyes becoming haunted for a second.

“Yup,” Jim clips out, tapping behind Chris’ ear twice to keep him focused in the present. “A really fucking big pulse of some kind. Would have thought we’d have felt it if it was an EMP though. I mean, I know there’s no big dramatic pulse of light or visible energy like Federation media always show, but I thought it would like, tingle or something?”

“Language,” Chris bites out with a scowl.

“English,” Jim quips back with a smirk. 

“You know damn well I meant stop cussing brat.”

“Hypocrite,” Jim singsongs with another cheeky grin.

“Devil child,” Chris teases, finally smiling back. “I will disown you.”

“Gasp!” Jim says literally, his hand on his chest. “So you admit you have claimed me as your own child?”

“Much to my own misfortune,” Chris grumbles with an eyeroll, his fond tone belying his words. “You’re still a cheeky brat.”

Jim just wiggles his eyebrows up and down a few times.

* * *

They sleep in shifts, Tavek insisting on taking the most watches as Vulcan’s only need roughly four hours of sleep per night. 

They only have the one blanket with the rucksacks shoved under for pillows, but they huddle together for warmth, Kevin in the centre, and sleep as best they can. 

Jim is harsh with the portions of food they eat, only opening one item per meal and no more. Only Kevin gets to eat three times a day as well, Jim insisting that the rest of them make do with just breakfast and dinner. Chris tries to tell him they have more than enough food to last until the Yorktown is due to arrive, that they can easily eat more, but Jim won’t hear of it. 

Bitter experience has taught him to be cautious.

* * *

“Still no sign of anyone?” Chris asks Tavek wearily as the eighth day in the cave slowly comes to a close. 

“No sir,” Tavek reports dutifully, his eyes never leaving the open fields between them and the distant town. 

“We’re going to have to go and look,” Jim says quietly. “If the Yorktown had arrived, we would have seen some activity by now. At the very least, we need more food. I know we still have a fair bit now, but if Starfleet isn’t coming, we have to prepare for the worst.”

“I’ll make a list of what we should collect,” Chris breathes tiredly. “Are we taking Tommy with us?”

“Not this time,” Jim shakes his head. “He needs to stay and look after Kevin until he stops being sick.”

“Poor boy,” Chris sighs again, scratching at his increasingly scraggly beard. “Hell of a time to catch a cold virus.”

“At least it’s not food poisoning,” Jim shrugs, dropping a hand onto Tavek’s tense shoulder once again.

* * *

Chris decides they should go on a supply run first, scouring the nearest abandoned farm houses before heading south towards the southern pastures where most livestock was kept.

“They’ll have slaughtered most of the farm animals for food by now,” Jim frowns, tearing his spare, still blood splattered tee into strips to wrap around their faces. Chris is picking through the medical supplies Tommy had collected, hoping there’s something that might work as sunscreen in there; his sun chip is no longer charged and working. 

“It’s not meat we’ll be after,” Chris answers, now filling a couple of their water bottles from the filter. “We need more blankets, something to burn to keep warm at night, candles if we can find any. More clothes and hand sanitiser. A screen or something to put over the entrance of the tunnel to muffle any noise or light we make. Something to patch that crack in the ceiling in case it starts raining.”

“We should go up there and pull the mouldy vines out of the hole,” Emily says as she looks up. “They’re going to start flaking and falling apart soon, and we don’t want it getting into our food and water.”

“Don’t go up there alone,” Chris insists firmly. You don’t go outside until it starts getting dark so your more hidden, you don’t wear anything bright coloured. You pull the vines out, move them away from the hole, and then come straight back got it?”

“I’ll take Tavek with me sir,” Emily nods solemnly.

“You can call me Chris kid,” the man smiles fondly. 

“Only if I can call you Cap’n Chris,” Tommy jokes in his usual deadpan manner. “With berries preferably.”

“And now I’m a cereal,” Chris sighs good naturedly. “Come on Jim, let’s go before he comes up with any more names to abuse me with.”

* * *

They don’t have much luck with food, but they do get enough to keep them going for maybe extra week at a stretch. They do get plenty of other things though. More bedding, some towels, a couple of inflatable pillows, and a box of basic hygiene products, including supplies for Emily. 

Some plates, bowls, kitchen knives, and cutlery go in Chris’ bag, and Jim finds some rope and ties a washing up bowl to his rucksack too.

Jim then finds a pair of hair scissors in one bathroom and holds them up hopefully, which prompts Chris to look for shaving supplies. That then leads to Jim unscrewing a shower head and hose from someone’s house, and mentally planning how to make a privacy screen using some of the rope and one of the blankets. 

They collect a couple of raincoats, an actual bottle of sun cream and some after-sun lotion. Chris empties a jar of instant coffee he finds in someone’s home office into a snythplastic bag, and Jim collects some basic hand tools from a large barn full of rotting straw. 

“Rat,” he screams as something scurries over his foot while he’s stuffing these latest objects into his already over-full rucksack. 

Before Jim can blink, Chris has whirled around and skewered it with a long piece of pointy metal. 

“Gross but impressive,” Jim comments with both eyebrows raised as Chris hefts the sharpened pole back up. 

“Fancy a cooked dinner?” Chris says faintly with a nauseous look, now holding the dead rat up by its tail.

“Meat is meat I guess,” Jim shrugs with an unpleasant expression of his own.

* * *

I can’t believe we’re eating rat stew,” Tommy moans for the third time that night, as they all huddle round the small fire Chris has gotten going. Even Tavek has come in from the cave mouth to claim a bowl.

“It’s more like rat broth actually,” Jim smirks. “Just boiled water with rat meat tossed in it.”

“I’m eating rat,” Tommy moans with a mock sob, shovelling more into his mouth.

* * *

“If you’re going back to the town, go my Da’s vet clinic and try and get some vitamin supplements,” Tommy tells Jim quietly the next morning. “Kevin needs them. We all need them, but Kevin needs them most. This cold is dragging on and it’s hard to keep him quiet and calm when he doesn’t feel well.”

“Vitamins. Got it,” Jim nods as he once again pulls his tatty rucksack straps over his shoulders. “Do we need more of anything else?”

“More of the weak painkillers if you can. We have lots of strong ones, but I don’t want to overdose anyone by accident. They’re made for cows and horses and flackenbeasts, not human sized beings.”

* * *

They time it so that it’s once again dark before the approach the town. 

There are more bonfires glistening orange in the distance, but the area around Hoshi’s cottage is once again abandoned and undisturbed. 

“We should go round the edge again to get the stuff Tommy needs,” Jim mumbles. “Let’s not go right into town to get information unless we have to.”

“After you then kid,” Chris whispers back.

* * *

The vet clinic has been cleared out when they arrive, the shelves tipped over and all the glass cabinets broken into. They gather what little remains, and then leave as fast as they arrive.

Chris does not reprimand Jim for swearing colourfully.

* * *

After fruitlessly sneaking from house to house for a couple more hours without seeing anyone and finding very little edible food, they exchange resigned glances and head for the town centre. 

Soon, they’re climbing up onto the rooftops and running in crouches over the tiles and concrete slabs, the night wind whipping at them harshly once more. They see no one in the streets, but as they grow closer and closer to the Town Hall, they begin to see candle and torch light flickers in some people’s windows.

“Didn’t kill literally everyone then,” Jim mumbles as they carefully watch a human woman with deep bags under her eyes sew up a hole in some pants through her front window.

“I estimate about half the population was in the town square,” Chris shudders, tapping Jim’s cheek in a steady pattern of two, like a heartbeat. “Maybe four thousand people or more.”

“Notice that everyone we’ve seen still alive is human?” Jim points out. “Only alien I’ve seen since- since-”

He trails off, concentrating on the still steady light tapping of Chris’ fingers on his face.

“Tavek,” Chris finishes for him. “Everyone is human except for Tavek and he said he was supposed to come into the town too, but forgot because he was in deep meditation.”

Below them, the human woman stands, blows out her candle and disappears from view.

* * *

They soon find they can’t get much closer to the town hall as there are men standing lazily on guard atop the buildings. They can see the white glow of electric lights in the near distance though, despite the darkness of everywhere else. 

“We need a new plan,” Jim whispers, hand running backwards through his freshly cut bangs. “Either we leave it, or we risk trying to talk to someone.”

“I got an idea, but you gotta stay here while I do it,” Chris says, already rising from his prone position. 

“Chris!” Jim hisses in protest, starting to scrabble onto his hands and knees.

“Stay here,” Chris whispers back harshly. “I’ll be back in less than a minute.”

And with that, he jumps nimbly over the railing they’re hiding behind, and darts off _towards_ the nearest bored guard.

“Fuck!” Jim spits harshly, dropping back behind the cover out of sight.

* * *

It’s actually closer to four minutes before Chris returns, dragging the now unconscious man with him quickly. 

“I asked him some questions before I knocked him out,” Chris bites out, cradling his split knuckles. “Didn’t take much to get him talking.”

“And?” Jim prompts, rifling through the man’s pockets while Chris systematically strips down and inspects the projectile weapon he was carrying.

“Kodos doesn’t give a shit about any of us basically. He wants to run a goddamn _eugenics_ programme. Strong human males bred to obey are his end goals. White skin, dark hair, no history of family illness. This douchebag literally referred to woman as _breeding stock_ for fuck sake. Lucky for Kodos, this is a European human population dominated colony. I guess anyone who didn’t meet his requirements, or anyone likely to resist and rebel are the ones who were called to the Town Square.”

“What about the Yorktown and Starfleet?” Jim croaks back, disgusted. “Why has no one come?”

“Wouldn’t say, just laughed at me. I knocked him out at that point.”

“We’re so fucked,” Jim moans in despair.

* * *

“Chris,” Jim hisses frantically, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. “Look!” 

He points into the street, where a teenage girl is darting out from behind a house with a moving bundle in her arms.

“Guess we’re acquiring another stray or two,” Chris says plainly.

* * *

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Jim is saying, his hands up over his head. “We’re Starfleet, we’re here to help!”

“Liar!” the girl spits savagely, holding the axe above her head. “You’re human! You’re with _them!”_

“We’re not, we promise,” Chris tells her gently, slowly dropping to one knee.

“You can’t be Starfleet!” She hisses again, axe rising a little higher. “They killed all the Starfleet people in the massacre. They’re burning all the bodies in the bonfires. I _saw_ them!”

“We escaped,” Jim says in a wobbly voice. “We were in the square when the shooting started, but we didn’t get hit and we got out.”

“ _You’re_ not Starfleet either,” she growls threateningly, eyes blazing. “You’re a baby human! You’re not old enough!”

“My name is Christopher Pike, Commander, USS Yorktown,” Chris says stoically, now on both knees. “Serial number 1123584. Planet of origin, Earth. We mean no harm. If you let me go in my rucksack, we have food we can share.”

“You have food?” the girl croaks, all the fight draining from here once and her arm dropping to her side. “B’lat needs food now, or he’ll starve. He’s sick!”

“We’re gonna help okay?” Jim says, slowly sliding his bag off his back. “My name is JT, what’s yours?”

“M’lat,” she sobs. “They killed our parents and tried to kill us. I don’t want to die!”

* * *

Oddly enough, little Kevin finds tiny B’lat fascinating, often tottering up to M’lat and sweetly asking to hold the toddler. M’lat is wary at first, even as Emily chatters her ears off, obviously glad to have a fellow girl to gossip with. But after the first three days of being in the cave with them, she relaxes, the spines on her head finally flattening as her immediate sense of danger wanes.

Jim and Chris keep a brave face on for everyone as the days continue to crawl on by, reminding them all that Starfleet will definitely be coming now that they haven’t gotten any comms from Chris or the other officers for weeks now. They take a rock from the base of the waterfall and use it to start marking tallies on the left wall into the entrance tunnel. 

Tommy scowls at it the first time he sees it, snarling something unintelligible and going to sit with Tavek outside for hours.

“How long can we make this food stretch for?” Chris asks with his now ever-present exhaustion colouring his voice as they sit underneath the newest tally mark

“Counting Kevin and B’lat as a person each despite their size, another week and half. Closer to three if we all switch to one meal a day and include the Vulcan protein nibs.”

“Jim we’re already all starving,” Chris sighs resigned. “It’s been four weeks now and I can see us all literally _shedding_ the pounds. We’re not getting enough calories, especially you and Tommy.”

“And you,” Jim insists. “You’ve done as much walking and climbing as I have. But that’s our choice. Two meals for ten days, or one for twenty-one or so.”

“Cut my portions in half,” Chris growls, scrubbing his hands down his stubbled face. 

“You and I are already eating less than the others,” Jim mumbles with a shrug. “I’ve cut Tommy and Emily down a little bit too.”

“How is this happening,” Chris chuckles brokenly, hooking and arm over Jim’s too bony shoulders as he almost sobs. “Where the fuck is the Yorktown? Why am I being forced to treat you, a pre-teen, like a grown ass adult just so we can all get through the day? I’m living in a cave with a bunch of kids that are slowly wasting away while I watch and there’s _nothing_ I can do!”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Jim stutters, tears sliding down his own face silently as he taps their double rhythm on Chris’ wrist. “I got you, we’re getting out of here. I got you sir.”

* * *

Chris’ resolve seems to strengthen some after his little breakdown though, and he spends more and more time hovering over Jim as he keeps trying to get the Comm booster to work, offering encouragement and telling him how smart and brave he is, how proud he is of him.

He also sits with little Kevin and B’lat on the sleeping mats and blankets, telling them exciting stories of all the things he’s seen in space, about how great Starfleet is and how any day now, a big ship full of officers is going to come swooping down to the planet and bring them lots of food and candy. Jim smiles sadly as he listens in, watching as Chris slowly starts to get sick again along with the rest of them. Watching as Kevin and B’lat listen with wide eyes and big smiles despite their growling stomachs and too thin faces.

* * *

“We need a power source,” Jim sobs, having reached the end of his own rope. “It’s not gonna work unless we can get a power source!”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Chris mutters into his hair, cradling Jim against his chest and rocking. Jim can feel both their rib cages where they’re pressed together as he cries, further evidence of how they can’t last much longer. “We’ll go out again. Get a working power cell for the booster and some more food.”

“There’s no more food to get,” Jim bawls. “We’ve been through the local farm houses a dozen times! We’ve walked all the way around the outside of the town and taken everything! I’m gonna starve to death just like Frank wanted!”

“Not gonna let it happen Jimmy,” Chris whispers through his own tears, still rocking. Rocking. Rocking. “I got you, we’re gonna get out of here.”

* * *

“JT we have to go,” Tommy insists. “We have to try!”

“We can’t leave him like this! He’s burning up!”

Chris is flat on his back in the pile of bedding, mumbling nonsense and hazy with fever.

“Emily knows how to keep him cool, but that infection in his chest has come back. We _have_ to get more antibiotics and more food somehow.”

“We might not make it Tommy,” Jim cracks, gripping Chris’ sweaty palm and tapping in twos. “We’re too weak! What if we collapse halfway there!”

“Then we get back up and keep going,” Tommy says determinedly. “We’re all sick, we need medicine and food, no matter what we have do to get it.”

“Okay,” Jim says resigned. He forces his shoulders to straighten and says it again. “Okay, we can do this. I got you, we’re getting out of here. I got you.”

* * *

They’re crawling back out of a back window of the old distribution centre, terrified out of their minds when it happens.

They’d grabbed whatever they could in blind panic. Ration bars, bags of nuts, a box marked with the universal first aid sign. Shoving it in the one bag they’d brought, they’d barely dared breathe as they scrambled back up the shelving unit.

That’s when they’d been spotted.

Jim had _known_ it was going to happen eventually, but they’d had to try. At this point it was try and maybe die, or don’t and definitely do. 

“Run!” Jim had yelled, voice high pitched with terror as a spot light swivelled onto them and an alarm started blaring.

Without a second thought, he and Tommy had sprinted across the corrugated metal roof and thrown themselves with careless abandon down onto the big metal storage crates they’d climbed up. Dropping to the duramac floor with equal recklessness, they’d run as fast as they could towards the hole they’d made in the wire fence even as bullets started ricocheting around them.

Skidding in one unsmooth movement through the dust and through the hole, Jim had already started scrambling forward again before he’d even managed to get to his feet. Tommy was seconds behind him, his terrified panting loud in Jim’s ears as he-

Tommy screams like the very world has ignited around them.

Jim doesn’t think, throwing Tommy’s arm over his shoulder and _dragging_ his friend along despite his body protesting with every step.

“I got you, I got you, I got you,” he chants as he tries to jog, men still yelling behind them. Bullets still piercing the dirt around him. Sirens still wailing.

Jim runs.

* * *

He collapses as soon as he spots Tavek by the cave mouth. 

Half of Tommy’s face is inflamed, burned bright red and oozing, but Jim had refused to leave him. He’d just kept dragging Tommy and sobbing at him to walk until the other boy had finally started trying to get his feet under him.

For miles they’d limped away together, Jim nervously watching behind them every few steps, wondering why no one was following. But no one had.

Tommy had fallen back unconscious as they’d started to climb the lower slopes of the mountains, and Jim had been forced to go back to dragging him. It was a slow, painful, exhausting process, but he’d made it. And as soon as he’d set eyes upon Tavek, the Vulcan boy listing to one side due to hunger and prolonged sleep deprivation, Jim’s legs had given out under him.

* * *

When he comes to, he’s in the cave and Emily and M’lat are leaning over him, trickling cool water onto his brow.

He moans loudly as he becomes aware that his whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Jim?” someone slurs from nearby. “He ‘wake?”

“Lie down Chris,” M’lat soothes. “He’s coming round, yes.”

“Chris,” Jim whines piteously, his throat scratched and hoarse. 

“M’here son,” Chris mumbles near his ear, an arm flopping onto his chest.

“Tommy said you have to lie propped up on your back!” Emily protests, and Jim realises Chris must have rolled over to reach him.

“I’ll live,” is all Chris replies though, and Jim lets himself cry again, clinging to Chris as pain continues to throb up and down his body.

* * *

“There are men coming,” Tavek announces in an emotion filled voice. Jim glances up from the bedding pile and sees that the Vulcan’s eyes are wide and horrified, his black hair ruffled and stuck up. “They’re coming straight for us!”

“Put all the lights out,” Jim commands, adrenaline allowing him to overcome the still dull ache in his limbs as he forces himself to sit up right. “Kev, pick up B’lat and keep him quiet. Tavek, go back to the cave mouth and pull the screen down and then get back here. Emily, I know he’s in extreme pain, but you have to try and stop Tommy from whimpering constantly. M’lat, help me wake Chris up and then make sure the two guns we have are loaded. If they try to take us, we won’t go down without a fight.”

He pauses and looks everyone conscious in the eyes.

“I got you,” he says simply, tapping on his brow twice with two fingers.

* * *

“Well well well, what do we have here,” Someone drawls as they crawl up the cave mouth. “Is it a little nest of rebels I wonder?”

“Stay back,” Jim yells commandingly, trying to sound like Chris does. “We’re armed and we will use deadly force!”

“You got two choices kid,” the voice laughs back. “Either you put down the phasers and guns and let us take you alive, or we’ll throw a grenade in here and let the rock fall slowly crush you all to death.”

“Let ‘em in kid,” Chris grunts from the floor next to Jim, voice tight with pain. “Can’t escape if you’re dead.”

Jim looks down at him in sorrow but nods.

“Take a risk and maybe die, or don’t and definitely die,” he sighs, clicking the safety of the stolen rifle back on. “Back out of the cave!” he calls louder. “We surrender, we’re coming out!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Casually adds yet another chapter to the total count* _Nothing to see here..._
> 
> **CW:** Kodos. No seriously. _Kodos_

They’re thrown into the back of an all-terrain vehicle, an angular gunmetal grey machine with a spot light mounted on its arched roof. 

Kevin sobs uncontrollably as he’s hauled out of the mouth of the cave and carried off, and Tommy moans and gasps, still unconscious, but obviously feeling every movement as first Emily, and then a mask-covered guard drag him along. Jim has to pull Chris along too, though the man does his best to help. Once they’re out into the night air, Chris gives up trying at all, letting the men manhandle him with little regard for his wellbeing.

Jim, Chris, Tavek, and M’lat are all handcuffed with heavy metal chains just before they’re shoved in to the back of the vehicle, Emily being slapped and told that she’ll be next if she does anything but cling to B’lat. 

And then they’re driven away into the darkness, a sneering man sitting in the back with them, watching their every move and clicking the safety of his projectile weapon on and off in an unsteady rhythm. 

Kevin’s tears eventually run dry as he huddles in the far corner alone, bouncing up and down as the vehicle speeds towards the town. Chris had tried to call him over early on, offering the terrified boy a hug, but the guard had barked at them all to stay where they were and that had been the end of that. 

Jim lies where he was thrown, M’lat’s hand on his knee, and silently begs Starfleet to finally arrive.

* * *

The inside of the town hall looks completely different to how it used to before the massacre. 

Jim can’t help but look around as he’s dragged backwards through the building, two guards pulling him by his elbows. The holoscreens that used to play Fed Net news stations, display Tarsus’ weather forecasts, and show the status of the agriculture projects have all been taken down, large white, red and black banners and tapestries now hanging down instead.

The bright white electric lights feel harsh and glaring after so long living by firelight, and Jim’s eyes water as he continues to stare. The reception guy who used to give him mints is gone, two men in the ever-present black tac gear behind the desk instead. A young woman dressed all in white is screaming as she’s carried down the corridor passed them by another guard, begging him not to touch her. A human child of no more than eight stands by a wall that was once marble white and is now blood red, gripping a teddy bear and staring vacantly as a woman all in black cuts his rough spun clothes off him impatiently.

Jim closes his eyes and returns to his silent prayers.

* * *

“The Governor wants the two ‘Fleet lackey’s in his office. Take the other scum down to the boys in the basement. Tell them they can have some fun.”

“Don’t you touch them,” Chris rasps at the new guard standing before them, jerking against in his chains as Jim growls as loudly as he can and also struggles. “They’re innocent children!” he spits. “Keep your hands off them!”

“Tell the boys they can put as many as hands on them as they like,” the new man sneers. “Anything they want so long as they remain alive.”

“Aye sir!” Several of the men laugh as Jim and Chris both try to beg mercy and Emily repeatedly gasps in shallow breaths. 

Kevin bursts into tears again as he’s carried away with the others, and Jim throws himself forward futilely, watching in panic as his kids are taken away from him.

“Now now little Captain,” the man snorts as he watches Jim thrash and screech hopelessly. “We’ll have none of that kind of behaviour,” punctuating his words with a slap that sends Jim’s head spinning and his ears ringing.

“Leave him alone,” Chris is now begging as Jim shakes his head to settle the sparks in his vision. “Please! We’ll do as you ask!”

“Aw Pikey-man’s got a little inappropriate crush! Don’t worry, we’ll only ruffle your kid up where you can see it happening. That way you’ll know the exact price of your disobedience. Take them up lads, and let the Governor know I’m at his beck and call.”

Jim gives up struggling as they’re both dragged towards the turbolifts at the back of the building, but he doesn’t stop the tears.

* * *

Jim has never felt his blood boil with such strong hatred. 

Not when he had to live with Frank, not when he realised that Sam had run away and left him behind. Not when he saw the charred remains of the house his Dad had left him in his will.

Nothing compares to how much he wants to gouge this man’s eyeballs out and slit his throat. 

“You’re quite the resourceful little pair, aren’t you,” Kodos chuckles as spins a gleaming silver letter opener between his thumb and forefinger. “Building that little home out in the mountains, stealing all that food, escaping from the culling in the first place. I _know_ you were both in that square when I announced the necessity of the execution order. We found all the slaughtered bodies of your friends when we started to take them for burning, I know Guard-Master Belius tossed you in the square with them before I gave the order.”

He pauses in his little diatribe, standing up from behind his polished mahogany desk and coming round to stand in front of Chris, who’s chained to a metal pole that’s been bolted to the floor. 

“I wanted to leave all the bodies there to start with don’t you know? But unfortunately the smell started to become a bit much, so they had to go. Thought about mass graves, but that seemed like too much digging to make my loyalists do, so we just dug the one pit and lit a pyre in the base. Amazing how little matter is left of a body after you incinerate it in several thousand degree heat.”

Chris groans as Kodos tilts his head up by placing the letter opener’s blade under his chin. From his place chained to the back wall, Jim bites his tongue to stop himself growling again. 

“But the real question is, what am I going to do with the two of you now? Starfleet’s not coming for you, you know. I sent that pretty ship of yours on a wild goose chase across half the sector. They must be more than a month away by now I’m sure, looking for a non-existent shuttle they think you’re on. Amazing what people will believe if you can act just the right amount of mystified and scared.”

“They’ll come back,” Chris pants as the blade nicks his chin, Jim watching a single drop of crimson blood slide down its length, beading on the tip.

“And so what if they do? By then we’ll be ready for them. More turn to my cause every day, relishing in the power and freedom I can grant them. Humanity truly is the greater species when you stop forcibly restricting them with pointless morals. We’ll have overrun the Yorktown before you can blink and then what gods will you pray to for salvation?”

Another pause as the madman drags his blade forward up towards Chris’ lips, blood and stubble coming with it.

“Assuming I let the two of you live long enough to see it happen of course. We’ll see.”

“You’re insane,” Jim spits, his own blood speckling his lips from the cut inside his mouth. 

“Not quite, but I’m getting there!” Kodos grins, swivelling to face him. Jim tries not to cower from the unbridled rage he sees burning in the eyes that pin him to wall. “Oh Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy. Or do you prefer JT? I hear that’s what they called you at school hmm? A poor little stillborn cousin that was supposed to share your name stopping your aunt from calling you anything but an abbreviation. How does it feel knowing that your daddy killed himself for you, that your mommy hates you so much she abandoned you, that your uncle loathed you enough to have fun with you, that even your brother couldn’t stand you enough to help you…? And now not even your aunt can say your name. Couldn’t say your name I suppose, seeing as she’s dead because of you.”

“Shut up, you know nothing about me you bastard!” Jim growls, knowing he’s rising to the bait but unable to help himself. 

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that you insignificant brat!” Kodos roars, his hand whipping out and the blade slicing shallowly into Jim’s cheek.

The Governor huffs a second later as Jim freezes in shock, shaking the tension out of his frame with one careless flick of his shoulders.

“Now look what you made me do JT,” he continues in a much milder tone, grabbing Jim’s chin in a rough grip and squeezing his cheeks. “There’s no need for such unpleasant language from you young man, and I will not have you saying such unnecessarily vulgar things about me.”

Jim gapes at the man’s whiplash attitude, the burning line on his face stinging hotly.

“Now I think the first thing we should do is show the rest of the townspeople how bad a boy you’ve been hmm? How bad you and your Starfleet daddy here have both been? My people have to know that I won’t let naughty children go unpunished, that I will protect them from people like you.”

“Stay away from him,” Chris suddenly growls, yanking against his cuffs again. “You want to hurt someone? Then I’m right here Kodos.”

“Now what your broken little replacement daddy is doing now Jimmy-T,” Kodos grins, stepping back towards his desk, “is trying to draw my attention away from you. He thinks if he can draw my anger towards him instead, I’ll leave you alone. Unfortunately for him, I’m not an angry or rash man. I can pay attention to both of you, be disappointed in both of you. _Punish_ both of you. Guards! Take these two young gentlemen out to the stocks please!”

* * *

The stocks are… very literal, looking they’ve been brought to life directly from a textbook of medieval history. Jim screeches and thrashes as he’s strapped in, eyeing the dead-eyed crowd gathered before the stage with horror.

Chris is bolted in silently right next to him, their hands close enough to touch as they’re forced to kneel and stick their hands and heads into the holes in the splinter riddled wood. Their backs are facing towards the hall, and Jim can still see the blackened stains where dried blood has not been washed off the paving slabs below.

He shivers as he feels his tee being cut open down the middle of his back.

“I promised I would protect you!” Kodos calls over their head. “I promised I would ensure that we all survive despite Starfleet and the Federation choosing to ignore our plight! That we would live to see another day despite our pleas for help being so ruthlessly disregarded! Men like these two before me? They threaten that safety! They take what’s yours and mine and ours! Taking resources that we need to survive! I will not allow it to happen! I will not allow them to threaten us!”

The suns burn down on Jim’s bare skin, on the still present scars from Frank’s belt. The scars twinge with remembered pain and Jim knows what’s coming even before he hears the distinctive snap.

“Twenty lashes each!” Kodos cries again. “One for each death they have directly caused by refusing to share food with you all!”

Chris lasts eight cracks of the whip before he starts screaming.

Jim lasts three.

* * *

They’re left hanging on the stage as the crowd dissipates, Chris’ hand weakly pawing at Jim’s as he slurs what are probably supposed to be comforting words and promises. Jim’s brain is deaf to it though, his own pain and keening too loud in his ears. 

The suns continue to arch across the skies in tandem.

And Jim cries.

* * *

Something is tugging at him.

Jim had given up clinging to consciousness hours ago.

“Nooo,” he slurs, uselessly trying to jerk away from what he thinks are hands. The hands don’t listen.

He blacks out again as he’s manhandled roughly and fingers slide through the crusted blood on his back.

* * *

When he cracks his eyes open, Chris is huddled over him shivering and mumbling, his eyes roving unseeing.

“Mr Chris won’t stop cryin’!” Little Kevin whimpers in Jim’s face. “Scarin’ me!”

“Where are we Kev?” Jim slurs.

“Wiv the bad men,” Kevin whimpers again, shoving his face into Jim’s neck. “They took Tommy an M’lat and th’ baby away! I don’t like the dark! Where’s Tavek and Emily go!?”

“M’here Kev. I got you, I got you.”

He wraps a sore arm around Kevin’s back and taps in sets of two, staring into the endless darkness surrounding them, muttering Chris’ words over and over.

* * *

People move somewhere out in the dark above them.

There are screams and grating metal and snarls and laughter.

Kev tells Jim there are walls out there, damp stone walls and no door. That he crawled all the way around the wall before the bad men dropped Jim and Mr Chris in here with him.

Jim cuddles the boy against his chest as Chris wavers in and out of delirious consciousness behind him, and for the first time, prays that they all die before the men come back.

* * *

Jim knows he’s losing his mind. That he’s lost too much blood, that he’s gone too long without water, that his overtaxed and starved body is giving up on him.

He has no true concept of time anymore, but he knows it’s been too long.

He’s not sure if Kevin is breathing still.

He’s sure Chris isn’t.

* * *

Jim pushes back against Chris’ collapsed body as firmly as he can manage, wraps Kevin tighter in his arms, and lets oblivion take him.

* * *

“... Four CC’s of _Pentylathazone!”_

Jim groans.

Something is wrong.

“...Kidney failure! Blood pressure...!”

_“Jimmy!”_ Someone is screaming with wild abandon. _“No I won’t let you!”_

“...Sedate him! Heart rate through the… Delirious! ...Sedate him now!”

_“He’s mine! I got you, I got you I got you! JIMMY!”_

Jim cries at the voice. _I got you I got you_ he calls silently back, though he’s not sure why.

_I got you._

* * *

Bright lights, distant beeping. 

Too much movement around him.

“No!” He shouts as he feels hands on his chest. “No!”

“Jim! It’s me! Phil!”

Jim doesn’t know who Phil is.

“No!” he shouts again, throwing his fists out, knowing that touch only brings more pain.

* * *

His head is stuffed with cotton wool. 

He moans and something soft shifts under his face.

“But Timothy was a very special little boy,” someone is saying softly, like they’re reading aloud. “Timothy could make himself invisible! He had to concentrate very hard to do it, scrunch his face up like a crumpled sheet of wrapping paper- Wait. Doc! Doc! Kirk’s waking up again!”

Jim whimpers at the sudden loud noise in the otherwise quiet. 

“Hey hey, it’s okay Jimmy,” another voice says close to him. “Can you hear me Jim?”

Jim whines and tries to turn his head away from the sound, but his whole body is lethargic, floppy, and won’t do what he wants. 

“You’re on the USS Yorktown Jim,” the new voice says calmly. “My name is Phil Boyce. Do you remember me? I’m Chris’ friend-”

“Chris!” Jim screeches, forcing his upper body upright despite the agonising pain that sends coursing through him. Distantly, here’s aware the harsh beeping has started around him again, but all that matters is finding Chris and his kids. He glances around the room in panic, absently noting that everything looks too clean and is made of metal and glass, that the endless darkness has gone. It doesn’t matter though; all that matters is finding Chris. 

As soon as he spots another bed, he’s throwing himself towards it.

“Jim!” the voice says firmly, even as Jim ignores the man it’s coming from. “Chris is right there, you _need_ to get back into bed.”

“No no no no no no!” Jim chants as hands try to push him backwards again. He can’t _think,_ but he knows has to find Chris and Kevin and Tavek and Tommy and-

Something pinches sharply against his neck and the world goes blurry.

“I’m sorry kid,” the voice says as he stumbles, “but your heart literally can’t handle the stress right now. Your whole organ system is an utter mess, even the bits we operated on and repla…”

Everything goes dark.

* * *

There’s pain now, but it’s easier to think.

Jim doesn’t know which state is better. Does he even remember a before to compare now to?

“Where m’I?” he mumbles, his throat burning.

“Medbay of the USS Yorktown. Captain April insisted you came here instead of to one of the Vulcan disaster relief ships.”

“Yorktown?” he mumbles through a stinging cough. “You came?”

“Yeah kid, we came.”

“Oh,” he sighs without opening his eyes. “Be quicker next time ‘k?”

“Never going to be a need for a next time kid. Go back to sleep Jim.”

“Mmmm,” Jim hums. “You need t’ find my kids n Chris. Kodos got ‘em.”

“They’re safe Jim, go back to sleep.”

“Safe?” Jim asks instead of listening to the suggestion. 

“Chris is right here in the room with you.”

Jim finally forces his eyes open. 

“Phil?” he asks, mouth gaping open in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s me,” the doctor says with obvious relief.

“You came,” Jim sobs, reaching out with his aching arms. “You came, you came!”

“We came,” Phil repeats back to him, giving into Jim’s silent request and pulling Jim into a hug.

* * *

After repeated begging, Jim convinces Phil carry from his own bed over to Chris’. Phil explains that the Commander hasn’t woken up since they were forced to sedate him as they sit together next to the other biobed, that when they’d brought him onto the ship he’d had a really bad panic attack and tried to attack the nurses and doctors.

“He’s gonna be okay though?” Jim whispers in his still dry and cracked voice, shifting in Phil’s lap. 

“Yeah, he’ll be okay. He needs some more surgery, as do you, but we can fix him.”

“You have to tap him,” Jim explains seriously as he reaches out to demonstrate. Phil watches him curiously, supporting him with gentle hands as Jim leans forward and taps two fingers behind Chris’ ear twice, and then his wrist twice with the other hand. “Two taps for it’ll be okay. It’s our signal, don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed Jimmy,” Phil nods stoically. “But that will calm him down if he gets upset again?”

“Uh-huh,” Jim nods. “You tap and you say _I got you.”_

“He was saying that before,” Phil muses, one of his hands coming up to stroke over Jim’s close-cropped hair. “Saying your name over and over as he tried to get to you, saying I got you.”

Jim relaxes into the hand on his head, feeling his eyes start to droop again.

“He does got me,” Jim mumbles tiredly.

“You need to go back to bed kiddo,” Phil chuckles fondly. 

“Mmm,” Jim protests with a frown, sinking against Phil’s chest. He’s sure he should be too big to cuddle up so closely to the doctor, but he actually fits okay. “No, m’stay here.”

“Five more minutes because I’m a soft-hearted mug, and then you’re going back into your bed,” Phil concedes.

Jim is asleep before he can protest against those terms.

* * *

He wakes screaming, Kodos’ words echoing in his head.

_Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society._

_How does it feel knowing that your daddy killed himself for you?_

_One lash for each death they have directly caused!_

Strange. He hadn’t had any nightmare’s down on the actual planet. Too concerned with the horror of day to day life to worry about the images of his sleeping mind. 

_I have no alternative but to sentence you to death, your execution is so order, signed, Governor Kodos._

He wakes screaming, begging anyone who will listen for Chris.

_Chris lasts eight cracks of the whip before he starts screaming._

Chris’ pained screams echo in his mind as Phil cradles him, and he begs for his friend.

* * *

“JT, you are looking well.”

“Tavek?” Jim yelps, dropping his book in surprise. “You’re here!”

“Indeed,” the young Vulcan nods. “My uncle agreed that I could visit you on this ship provided my cousin agreed to accompany me and ensure my wellbeing. This is Spock. Our fathers are brothers.”

Jim crawls to the end of the biobed and pulls Tavek into a hug which the Vulcan boy allows with no complaint. 

“How are you?” Jim asks as he grips. 

“My fellow Vulcans say that I am severely underweight and that I am in need of much mind healing, but that it is likely i will make a full recovery with time. They think it strange that I allow the other children and human healers to touch me so freely, but I find I cannot accurately explain to them how much their lack of physical boundaries has become a comfort to me.”

“My Father insists that the Vulcan healers allow it though,” the other Vulcan states tonelessly, a completely blank slate compared to Tavek’s obvious emotional tells. “My mother is human, and she was able to explain that Tavek has become used to human expressional behaviour, that it will be beneficial to Tavek’s health for it continue for now at least.”

“The others, they’re okay though?” Jim asks nervously, running his hands up and down Tavek’s back over his blue standard medbay shorts and tee.

“Thomas has suffered some serious injuries,” Tavek replies. “The healers are apprehensive about the damage done to his face by the phaser, but they assure me he will survive. B’lat and Kevin are receiving specialist paediatric care also, but Kevin has been insistently asking for you and Commander Pike since he woke. It would be prudent to arrange for him to visit the two of you as soon as possible as his unstable emotions are a continuing detriment to his recovery.”

“What about Emily and M’lat?”

Jim’s voice wobbles as he asks, unable to ignore the way that Tavek has avoided mentioning them until now.

“I have not seen them since we were separated by Kodos men,” Tavek admits eventually. “I know that they too have been located and are on a rescue ship, but for reasons that I do not understand they are being treated elsewhere.”

“It is because of the atrocities that the human men committed,” Spock comments, his smooth facade cracking into an obvious frown. “I will say no more on the subject but know that they are receiving the same high-quality care that you are, only from all female healers.”

Tavek and Jim exchange a look which lets Jim know that Tavek is able to interpret that just as fully as Jim is able. 

Jim swallows back the bile rising in his throat

“Come now cousin,” Spock continues, face wiped clear of emotion once more. “If you wish to also see Commander Pike before we must depart, we must do so now. To delay longer would mean we will be late returning.”

“Indeed Spock,” Tavek sighs, finally stepping back out of Jim’s arms. “Live long and prosper brother James.”

“Peace and long life, Tavek,” Jim cracks with a watery smile as the two Vulcans walk over to the next bed.

* * *

“Jim!” Chris screeches, back arching off the biobed.

Jim watches with tears in his eyes as Phil repeatedly taps behind Chris’ ear and whispers to him.

In the end, Chris’ heart rate peaks so high, a nurse is forced to sedate him again.

* * *

“Phil I need to find him, he’s hurt,” Chris slurs, body entirely drug-lax and head flopping from side to side.

“I’m right here Chris,” Jim tries, tapping tapping tapping. 

“Kodos has my boy Phil, we have to fin’ him!”

“I got you, I got you,” Jim says over and over again as Phil strokes the man’s regrowing hair.

* * *

“How is he,” Captain April sighs tiredly as joins Jim sitting on the edge of his biobed.

“He knows Phil is here now,” Jim says quietly, watching as Chris sucks carefully on a straw, eyes unseeing. “Phil says there’s something wrong with his brain, that he can’t work out where he is or who’s talking to him. He knows Phil is here, but he doesn’t understand what anyone is saying.”

“He’ll get better son,” April rumbles in his solid reassuring voice. “Doctors are good at these things, they’ll know what to do.”

“I sent a message to Tavek, he’s gonna ask Spock if he’ll come and do the mind meld thing, see if he can work out what’s wrong.”

“Vulcan mind melds are considered incredibly private things James,” April says sternly. “Spock won’t do anything unless Mr Pike is able to give his full consent.”

“Or if his medical proxy gives his consent _for_ Chris,” Jim points out. “And that’s Phil. Tavek says Spock is half human, that he understands human emotions really well for a Vulcan and that he’s practiced on his Mom a few times so he knows how to avoid some human emotional transference thing. If the doctors can’t help, we should let Spock at least try!”

The Captain sighs deeply again. 

“We’ll see what happens Jim.”

* * *

“PHIL I NEED TO FIND HIM,” Chris shouts, throwing the bowl of tasteless nutrient mush against the wall and trying to force his way out of the bed.

“I’m right here!” Jim cries loudly, clinging to Chris’ arm as Phil, another doctor and two nurses once again hold the flailing man down.

“KODOS HAS HIM, LET ME GO! LEMME GO! LEMmme go…”

Jim hates the hissing sound of hypos more every day.

* * *

“James Kirk, it is pleasing to see you again so soon.” 

“Hey Spock,” Jim waves back, anxiously biting his bottom lip. “You’re gonna help Chris right?”

“I aim to discover the source of his continued distress, yes.”

“And then fix it?” Jim begs. 

“I will do what I can,” Spock nods gravelly. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” Phil sighs, looking more tired every day.

* * *

The room is silent once Spock has placed his fingers on Chris’ face.

Jim sits quietly in Phil’s lap, the Doctor’s arms wrapped around him. Phil Boyce’s senior, Doctor VanGo, is monitoring the process as much as she’s able, her and a nurse keeping a sharp eye on Chris’ vitals read out and Chris’ general reactions.

Captain April is loitering by the door wringing his hands. 

Jim sits quietly and hopes.

* * *

“He was lost in his own mindscape,” Spock says after. “I attempted to guide him out, but human minds lack the structure and order of a Vulcan mind. We cannot be sure I succeeded until he awakens naturally, as he did not believe me to be real. His thoughts are chaotic, and the closer to the surface we came, the more pain I sensed him experiencing. I believe his own mind may have trapped his consciousness so deeply purely out of a false sense of safety.”

“Might be drug induced to be honest,” Phil sighs as he and Jim watch VanGo rescan Chris’ brain waves. “I found traces of Hypnophenalanyine in his blood when he was beamed aboard. Jim’s too, though he snapped out of delirium much quicker. I thought because Jim came round so quick and both of them now have clean blood… I thought it couldn’t possibly still be that. But. But maybe.”

“Don’t remember getting drugged,” Jim frowns.

“I doubt you remember much of anything after getting those cuts on your back kiddo,” Phil soothes, running a hand through his short hair again. “Memory loss is a common side effect of blood loss and infection, and you were dehydrated and starving too.”

Jim grunts. 

“They’re whip marks not cuts,” he mumbles, turning and pressing his face into Phil’s soft chest.

“I know kid,” Phil mourns above him, hugging him closer. “I wish I didn’t, but I know.”

* * *

“‘Chiro!” Jim gasps with joy as the Comm vid call finally connects.

“Oh nova Jim, I’ve been so worried!” the Japanese Admiral admits immediately. “I’ve been trying to get this long distance Comm authorised for days, but priority has got to go to anyone organising the rescue and relief efforts.”

“It’s okay,” Jim says quietly. “Phil’s looking after me. And Spock says he’ll bring Kevin to see me this afternoon.”

“Is Spock one of the Vulcan healers?” ‘Chiro asks with a fond smile, the graininess of the vid not quite masking the tiredness and worry visible in his eyes. 

“No, he’s Tavek’s older cousin. He’s been coming onto the Yorktown to help Chris though. Spock’s been explaining to me ‘bout how everyone has different layers of consciousness, but human minds are all jumbled up, so we can get stuck in one if something bad happens to us. He said there’s this thing called lock-in syndrome, and that schizophrenia and DID happen when two of the layers get separated too much. Vulcan psychological science is so cool!” 

“Sounds like he knows his stuff.”

“He’s nice, I like him. He doesn’t smile like Tavek does now, but Tavek didn’t use to smile or frown or anything, so I guess that’s actually a good thing for a Vulcan.”

“I’m glad you’ve made a friend son,” ‘Chiro smiles again. “Aiko and I are going to meet you at Starbase 4 okay? You’re going to leave orbit soon because some more Starfleet and Vulcan ships are coming to take over, and then you’re all going to the Starbase.”

“And then we can all go home?” Jim asks quietly.

“You and Christopher are both going to come and stay with me here in San Francisco yes. Christopher’s parents are going to move nearby too so they can help look after you both, and then we’ll go forward from there okay?”

“What ‘bout Kevin? And Emily and Tommy and M’lat and B’lat? They haven’t got parents any more. They’re all orphans like me now.”

“Emily has an aunt and uncle who are going to take her in. Tommy has an older cousin who’s in the ‘Fleet as has been granted extended care leave. M’lat and B’lat are going back to their home planet, because Latvick families are big and complicated. Kevin… we’ll see about Kevin. He may have to come stay with us too, but that’s okay. You’re like his big brother now.”

“What about- has- has- Mom, have you-? Has she-?”

“She’s still in deep space son, I’m sorry.”

“She hasn’t even Comm’d command has she?” Jim scowls. “Not even a text Comm.”

“Don’t worry about it, you just concentrate on getting better and behaving for the Doctors and Captain April.”

“Can’t go anywhere to misbehave,” Jim huffs, as a 15 second countdown timer appears in the bottom corner of the screen. “Comm time’s running out.”

“Starbase 4, we’ll be there I promise,” ‘Chiro says hastily. “We love you and we’re coming to get you. Look after yourself and Christopher, do all the things the doctor’s ask you too. And remember, _we love you.”_

“I love you too,” Jim whispers as the final three warning pips sound and then the Comm cuts out.

* * *

“Was goin’ on, where m’I?” Chris groans two hours after they’ve finally slipped into warp. 

Jim is sat on the edge of his biobed again, waiting with bated breath.

“You’re on the Yorktown, in the medbay,” VanGo tells him softly. You’ve been here for two weeks now.”

“S’Phil here ma’am?” Chris mumbles. “S’normally him fussing over me when I-”

The end of the sentence is lost as Chris falls back asleep again.

“Well I’d say that’s a good sign,” Doctor VanGo smiles tensely when she looks up at Jim. “Now lie down and go to sleep young man. You’re starting PT tomorrow and you’ll need your strength.”

* * *

“Please Phil,” Chris begs, his eyes glued to Jim. “You have to let me go over to him!”

Jim is only staying in his bed because he’s physically incapable of getting up right now. All his muscles have wasted away to almost nothing due to the prolonged starvation, and the physiotherapy he’s been prescribed is exhausting him.

“Chris it’s okay, he’s right there,” Phil is shushing him, sat in the biobed with the frail, thin man. The doctor has Chris laid between his legs, Chris’ back against his chest and his hands soothing up and down the other man’s scarred and wasted arms. 

Chris has so many more scars down his arms that Jim can recall him getting. They all had little nicks and cuts from climbing and living rough, but there are criss cross patterns and what look like burns on his skin. Marks that Jim is sure weren’t there when they’d been taken from Kodos’ office down to the stocks.

“I need to hold him,” Chris sobs, his eyes filled with desperation. “They hurt him so bad, I have to be with him! Phil please!”

“I’m right here,” Phil keeps saying as the tears don’t stop. “Jim is right here, you’re safe, we’re right here.”

* * *

“When we were three days out from returning to Tarsus, Communications detected an urgent hail with the colony’s signature attached,” Phil is explaining quietly to Chris, once again sitting behind his best friend and stroking his hair in comfort. Chris looks like he’s dozing, but Jim knows that he’s still listening as intently as he is himself despite appearances.

“It was a live vid Comm coming directly from Kodos’ office,” Phil continues in his deep pleasantly rumbling voice. “The Captain had it thrown up on the forward viewscreen, and Kodos was frantic as we listened unaware to his lies. He told us that the colony had picked up a distress signal from some ship several hundred light years away, that the signal had been so short and intense it had blown out the colony’s long-range comms and they couldn’t get hold of Starfleet Command to pass the message on.

“He said they’d got the distress call nearly a week ago, and after failing to fix the comm system, you’d gathered up all the Starfleet personnel on the planet and some of the research scientists, borrowed the colony’s only warp capable shuttle, and gone to have a look. Kodos said that he’d tried to convince you all to wait, that if you’d waited another few days, the Yorktown would be in short range distance and we could go instead.”

“S’no distress call,” Chris mumbles, “an’ Tarsus didn’t have any shuttles at all, le’ alone a warp shuttle.”

“We didn’t know that at the time,” Phil sighs guiltily. “We had no reason not to believe him, and he was a good actor. He gave us signal origin coordinates, some scans of what we thought at the time were warp trails left by you. He said you’d gone and he hadn’t heard from you for four days, that he was worried about you and they’d lost track of the shuttle.”

“S’bullshit,” Chris snarls. “S’a fuckin’ liar.”

“I know Chris, I know,” Phil tries to reassure. Jim shuffles uncomfortably under his covers, hatred flashing in his heart again as he thinks of the Governor. “We Comm’d Starfleet Command, passed on what Kodos had told us, told them of the data we’d been given. Given the circumstances, they ordered the Yorktown after you. After all, we were only headed for Tarsus IV in order to pick you up. If you weren’t there anymore, what was the point?

“We thought you had nearly a week’s head start on us, so even though the Yorktown’s warp sensory array is top quality, we didn’t think it odd that we couldn’t pick up your trail. We just plugged in the coordinates we’d been given and dropped into max warp. Ten days later, we arrived at the location, and there actually was a shattered starship waiting for us. The fragments were obviously old though, some civilian cargo ship that met a nasty end maybe fifty years ago, and at first the Captain was sceptical because of that. There were no signs you’d been there, that anyone had been there for half a century.”

“Why didn’t you come back then?” Jim asks in a crackling whisper. Phil turns to look at him with sad eyes.

“The landing party we sent over eventually found a sensory array with the Starfleet delta scratched freshly into the metal. When they dismantled the panelling, there was a corrupted data chip stashed inside; a brand new one. The Science team cleaned it up best they could, but all they could get was some partial coordinates and a fragmented audio clip. Chris, it had your voice on it, saying something about tactics and flight and ambush.”

“Probably old lecture recordings they’d edited,” Jim mutters. “Can get them on the Fed Net.”

“Probably son, but it was enough to convince Command that we should try and use the coordinate fragments to find you. We still didn’t know it was a diversion; we genuinely thought you were out there somewhere.”

 

“Wild goose chase,” Chris says hollowly, the significance of the wording lost on Phil, and a single tear trailing down his emaciated cheek.

“I knew something was up though, I could just _feel it,”_ Phil insists. “Something was just- off. It wasn’t like you to leave vague and cryptic clues and I hadn’t had a text Comm from you in too long, weird rescue mission in a shuttle or not. So I asked permission to vid Comm Command myself. I got through to Nogura eventually, asked him if he’d heard from Jim recently. Nogura said he hadn’t, that Tarsus still hadn’t fixed their long-range comms as far as he knew. I told him I knew something was up, that three weeks should have been more than enough time to fix the servers. He nodded, put me on hold. Came back with old Admiral Archer, said that no one had heard from Hoshi for weeks either.”

“Hoshi been dea’ for over a month by then,” Chris mumbles bitterly. “Bastards shot her in her own home. Happened right in front of me.”

Phil has to close his eyes and take a deep, stuttering breath before he manages to restart his story.

“Nogura and Archer contacted the VSA straight after that as Vulcan has their own research outpost not far from the Tarsus system. They agreed to send a shuttle from there over to T-IV to check things out. When it returned to the outpost four days later, the Vulcans on board insisted on mobilising a mass rescue effort immediately. That’s when Command recalled us in a rush. We were such a long way out by then, but we still beat the rest of the incoming ships there. God Chris, I’ve never seen anything like it. After April ordered a scan of the colony… The whole bridge was silent for so long. I looked at the surface scans and the life sign readout, and I knew.”

Phil gulps and a tremor shakes through him.

“We looked, and we all knew you were definitely dead.”

* * *

“An’ then Tavek lifted the cup an’ it was gone!” Kevin grins, one front tooth missing and his arms raised up. The small boy is still far thinner than he should be, but the skeletal look is starting to leave his face, his hair growing back in thicker, his small hands more steady. 

“Like magic!?” Jim gasps, playing along. 

“Indeed,” Tavek nods solemnly, dressed in a pair of human style cargo pant and a baggy short sleeved button down. He hasn’t worn a Vulcan robe since before they were taken from the cave, but Jim still can’t bring himself to ask Tavek why he stopped doing so.

“Yeah!” Kevin yells with another big grin. “The ball was gone! When I grow up, I’m gonna be magic like Tavek!”

“I thought you wanted to be a Starship captain?” Chris rasps with a smile from the other end of the biobed. Phil had finally acceded to both Chris and Jim’s pleas, and deposited Jim at the foot of Chris bed for the morning. 

“I’mma be both!” Kevin declares. “And I’m gonna take down all the baddies and discover the ooni- ooniver- universe! With magic!”

“A noble goal,” Tavek blinks, his lips twitching. “Will you be needing a science officer on your magical exploration vessel? I would like to apply for the position.”

“I’mma need all the officers!” Kevin giggles. “Mr Chris can be the errr. Momma used a big word... Desigtate adult? Make sure other adults listen to my orders.”

“I believe you mean designated adult Kevin,” Tavek nods, slowly pulling Kevin towards him. Despite his lingering illness, the small boy has quite a lot of energy, and his bouncing is getting too close to Chris’ damaged upper body.

“Like an Admiral?” Jim suggests with a smile, tapping on Chris’ ankle through the blanket with two fingers. 

“More like a Dadmiral,” Phil snorts, appearing from a storage cupboard with a tray of hypos. “Time for you bunch of wildlings to return to your own beds and have some lunch and your nutrient boosters.”

“But the mushy soup tastes so bad,” Kevin whines plaintively as he slides off the bed obediently. “Why can’t we have real food?”

“Remember what the healers told you Kevin?” Tavek says as he takes the boy’s hand in his own. “Our stomachs are not well. We have to readjust to solid food slowly.”

“But they should make it taste nice!” Kevin sulks as the two boys head to the Medbay entrance.

“Medicine is not supposed to taste nice. It works better if it-”

The automatic doors slide shut behind them, and Jim pushes down the short burst of panic that always flashes in his chest whenever anyone leaves his sight.

“You too Jimbo, back in your own bed” Phil insists, carefully lifting Jim up under his arms and carrying him the two steps to the next bed.

“I can walk again now,” Jim grumbles as he’s leant back against his pillows. You don’t have to carry me everywhere. I have functioning legs.”

“I’m allowed to fuss over you, I’m a doctor and I was worried sick about you.”

“Yeah okay,” Jim sighs, resigned. He tips his neck to one side as Phil administers his midday round of hypos, wincing hard with each hiss despite the near-lack of pain. As feels the anti-anxiety drugs among them begin to take effect, he pulls his covers up to his chin and closes his eyes.

* * *

_“Twenty lashes each!” Kodos cries again. “One for each death they have directly caused by refusing to share food with you all!”_

_Chris lasts eight cracks of the whip before he starts screaming._

“Chriiisss!” Jim screeches, throwing himself away from the pain and the death and the horror.

* * *

“Shhhh, I got you, I’m here, I got you.”

Jim realises he’s sobbing again, that tears are streaming down his face and his throat hurts from wailing and hiccupping. He’s being held tight, rocked slowly from side to side, and there’s a steady two-beat rhythm tapping behind his ear.

He starts tapping back.

“He seems to be returning to alertness Commander,” someone says. “I will return shortly with one of the doctors.”

“You hear that Jim? Spock came to see you again. He brought you some science journals he thought you’d like to read. I think he really likes you, even if does think humans are over emotional and odd.”

“Chris?” Jim mumbles through the tears, his body still shaking.

“I’m right here son, I got you. Phil brought you to my bed when he couldn’t get you to stop screaming for me.”

“I saw _him_ in my dreams,” Jim whispers hoarsely. “It felt so real and he was whipping you again. I couldn’t save you! He was hurting you and I couldn’t stop it!”

“But you did save me Jimmy,” Chris whispers back, keeping him pulled tight against his chest. “Every day I woke up and kept going was because of you. We’re alive, we got out. I got you.”

“I just want to go home,” Jim whines brokenly. “I just wonna go home.”

* * *

They arrive at Starbase 4 three days later. As the fastest of the ships that were in the first wave of the disaster response sent to Tarsus IV, the Yorktown is the first to dock at the base.

Jim begs and pleads with Phil and VanGo until he’s allowed to exit the ship in a hover chair instead of a transfer gurney, but Chris does not have the same luck. They’re still pushed down the boarding ramp together, but Chris is made to stay lying down as they do so. He’s very dramatic about it, moaning and complaining even as he winks playfully at Jim. 

“‘Chiro!” Jim yells as soon as they’re clear of the airlock and into the main hanger bay. Almost before the word has left his mouth, Jim is being pulled into a solid pair of arms and having anxious Japanese babbled in his ear, Aiko engulfing both of them in another hug from behind.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” the young Admiral tells him croakily when he finally switches back to standard English, Jim clinging to him with both his arms and his legs. “Nova, you’re so thin! I was so worried!”

“Mom!” Chris suddenly cries brokenly from next to them, his voice thick with tears. An older woman is almost sprinting through the crowd towards them, a man of similar age hot on her heels, pushing their way through the stream of people heading away from the ship with little care for propriety. Chris upper body comes up from off his bed in one hasty jerk, and a sobbing woman throws herself into his arms, pulling Chris’ head down against her chest.

Jim looks away, tears filling his own eyes.

“You must James,” the other frightened looking man suddenly says, his right-hand gripping Chris’ shoulder tightly as the woman continues whispering to her son. He looks like a spitting image of Chris, only with grey hair instead of blonde and more lines around his eyes and on his forehead. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, we’ve heard so many good things about you. Our Christopher sent us a lot of messages about you while he was teaching at the Academy. And he still sent us the occasional holopic of you even after he went back up into space.”

“He’s my kid dad,” Chris rasps, peering sideways from under his mother’s arm and looking just as young as Jim all of a sudden. “He’s mine, I’m keeping him.”

“Well I have always said I wanted grandchildren eventually,” Chris mom chuckles wetly, wiping at her tears with her jacket sleeve. “Between us and the Noguras, your boy is going to have all the loving grandparents he could ever dream of, I promise.”

Jim smiles and clings to ‘Chiro tighter as Chris grins up at him.

Perhaps now, everything will finally start to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next and final chapter will be an epilogue that takes some place in the future :)


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Let's write an epilogue!_ Eddy's brain said. _It will only be a couple thousand words of "lived happily ever after"_ Eddy's brain said.
> 
> Eddy's brain is _liar_

Jim had made a promise to himself on his twelfth birthday.

He would never leave his baby brother feeling as heartbroken, unloved, and unwanted as Sam had made him feel. Never.

He would never ignore his brother, never shout or yell at him no matter how irritating he might be on occasion. He would never be too busy to listen to his concerns, and he would never hesitate to drop literally everything at a moment’s notice if his brother needed him.

He would love him and respect him and protect him _no matter what._

It is for this reason only, that Jim does not strangle thirteen-year-old Kevin for waking him up at the crack of dawn. 

“Come oooon Jim,” Kevin whines at him again, tugging on his arm incessantly. “Get out of bed you lazy ingrate!”

“It’s not even 7am,” Jim moans back, clinging to his bed sheets. 

“Phil’s promotion ceremony is at nine, you have to get up and get ready!”

“That’s more than two hours away Kev,” Jim moans again. “I don’t need two hours to brush my teeth and throw my uniform on.”

“But dad’s making chocolate pancakes!” Kevin wheedles, flopping on top of Jim over the covers. Jim oofs with the quite considerable force that rams a gangly elbow into his stomach. Kevin’s growing like a weed, and he plays more than enough sports to have packed quite a bit of upper body muscle onto his otherwise wiry teenage frame.

“Which dad?” Jim groans, finally giving in and pushing himself into a sitting position. 

“Chris obviously,” Kevin drawls with a roll of his eyes, looking up at Jim with a sarcastic expression. “Phil is too busy freaking out about being promoted, ‘Chiro won’t get out of bed before 8am on a Saturday for anything less than a family red alert, and Stavak is still away being gross with his new bondmate or whatever. Tavek’s been sending me complaints all night.”

“Bondmates aren’t gross!” Jim protests mildly, rubbing gritty sleep dust out of his eyes. 

Kevin rolls his eyes again.

“You’re biased because Spock is fucking you into his mattress every other night,” Kevin snorts with a disgusted look. “Ever since you turned 19, he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you.”

“Oh my god, don’t talk to me like that!” Jim whines with his own disgust. “You’re thirteen! You’re supposed to be innocent still!”

“It is logical that we research the changing functions of our growing bodies Kevin,” Kevin states in his best Tavek impression. “There is an abundance of fascinating information available freely on the Federation Network; to ignore the opportunity for further learning it is providing us with would be the height of irrationality.”

“I’m gonna make ‘Chiro and Stavak put age restrictions on your Padds again,” Jim grimaces, swinging his legs out of bed and glancing around for a clean-ish pair of pants. 

“I’d just hack round them again,” Kevin huffs, rolling off Jim’s bed with entirely too much grace. “Now go in the damn shower; you smell like a rotting mollusc. And clean your damn room! I can’t believe you think it’s okay to let Spock see that this is how you live!”

“Yes _Mom,”_ Jim drawls as he swats his younger brother round the back of the head with the pair of jeans he’s just picked up.

* * *

Jim had made another promise to himself too, but this one had come first.

No matter how many psychologists and psychiatrists and therapists told him it was unhealthily co-dependent, he was never going to stop clinging to Chris like a human shaped safety blanket, and he was never going to make Chris stop doing the same back to him.

Eight years on and he’s yet to break that promise.

“Hnnnn Kev made me get up,” he moans as he shuffles into the house’s large kitchen in clean sleep pants with his still wet hair; Chris is stood at the traditional style stove, flipping pancakes in a frying pan with practiced skill. As soon as he’s close enough, Jim wiggles his arms under the man’s shoulders and shoves his face into the back of his neck.

“Good morning to you too son,” Chris greets him with, the smile audible in his voice. 

“Feeeed me,” Jim whines instead of offering a more normal greeting of his own.

“I’m working on it, you devil child,” Chris sighs fondly back. The old familiar epitaph rolls off his tongue easily, and Jim grins into the greying hairs at the base of Chris’ skull.

“Your devil child,” he retorts with equal fondness.

“Much to my misfortune,” comes the dry reply, accompanied by a double tap of two fingers on the back of his wrist. “Now go tell Phil to stop flouncing around like a drama queen and come sit down for breakfast. He’s in the front room trying to convince himself that all his achievements aren’t worthy of recognition after all. Dumb ass.”

Jim laughs as he pulls away, dropping a double tap of his own on Chris’ shoulder in parting.

* * *

“Hey gorgeous,” Jim winks as Spock slides in smoothly through the front door in his cadet reds. “Looking dashing as always.”

“Ashayam,” Spock not-smiles, his hand migrating towards Jim’s automatically. Jim entwines their fingers and the usual wave of deep emotion washes over him through their fledgling bond. 

“That’s public indecency,” Kevin deadpans as he walks past behind them, headed for the stairs. 

“Borderline at _best,”_ Jim retorts as he glances backwards and sticks his tongue out. “It’s no worse than a very intense snogging session in a crowded meeting hall.”

 

“How does that make it okay!?” Kevin demands as he bounces up the last couple of stairs backwards and then disappears into his bedroom.

“Yes Jim, it is quite indecent,” Spock says levelly, his otherwise emotionless expression being betrayed by the slight mirthful twitching of his lips.

“Don’t see you complaining though,” Jim rumbles in his deepest voice, turning back to face his boyfriend and stepping closer, his fingers trailing softly over Spock’s hand and then up under the sleeve of his Cadet jacket. 

“To complain would be the height of illogic,” Spock returns, stepping closer too, until there’s a mere inch separating their chests. 

Jim leans forward and breathes hotly on the shell of Spock’s pointed ear.

“And yet I bet I could make you complain quite vocally if I wanted too…”

Spock shudders, and Jim grins wickedly.

“...but not until tonight,” he finishes, stepping backwards and putting space between them.

Spock not-frowns in obvious disappointment.

“I begin to understand why Commander Pike consistently refers to you as the satanic figure from old Earth religious texts.”

Jim laughs as he grabs Spock’s hand again and tugs him towards the kitchen and more pancakes.

* * *

“Eyyyy Tavek,” Kevin greets as they all enter the ceremony atrium. The two teenagers exchange an overly complicated handshake that seems to largely comprise of fist bumps and chest slaps, while Jim watches over them with fond amusement.

Jim, long used to Tavek’s unusual lack of Vulcan ideologies and cultural practices, doesn’t even blink at the physicality of the exchange, but several of the civilians around them that have been invited to attend the ceremony watch with wide eyes and unabashed curiosity.

“Nice suit kid,” Jim grins, dropping his hand onto the young Vulcan’s shoulder. 

“I asked Stavak if I may be allowed to don human formal clothing instead of the traditional Vulcan robes from now on. He agreed on the condition that he be allowed to purchase a variety of brightly coloured ties for me, insisting that the black one that I desired alone would not be enough.”

“Wait. Have you pierced your ears as well!?” Chris blurts from next to Jim.

“This I did not discuss with Stavak before committing too,” Tavek smirks. “While initially painful, I am glad I followed the impulse.”

“The teenage rebellion is strong with this one,” ‘Chiro comments dryly. “I bet Stavak pitched a Vulcan fit when you came home looking like that.”

“He may have muttered about _unusual eccentricities_ a great deal. I informed him continued use of the phrase was illogical, as it is tautological and therefore partially redundant.”

“Well I sure am glad Aiko and I only have two and a half rebels to wrangle,” ‘Chrio sighs with a smile. “Come on, let’s find our places.”

“How come I only count as half a rebel?” Chris’ protests as they head towards the stairway between the rows of seats

“You’re a full rebel. Kevin’s the half.”

“Awww yisss,” Kevin hisses in glee.

* * *

Once Phil has grinned his way nervously onto the stage, once he’s been handed his commendation and formally accepted his promotion to Commander, once he’s shaken hands with the Surgeon general and saluted to Admirals Archer and Marcus. 

Once he’s done all that and the formal section of the ceremony has come to a close.

Only then does Jim allow himself to whoop and cheer loudly, clapping his hands together and shouting _go dad!_

Phil beams at them all from the stage as he’s stripped of his old formal grey jacket and handed a new one with more stripes on the sleeves.

Next to Jim, Chris is surreptitiously trying to wipe tears away from his eyes.

* * *

* * *

Jim’s new family is an odd thing by most standards. Human standards at least.

Jim doesn’t care that its odd because it’s _his._

Returning to Earth from Tarsus had been almost as traumatic as surviving the planet in the first place. He’d been loved and protected and guarded and been offered more help and support than he could ever have dreamed of, but that did not mean the ride had been smooth.

None of them had escaped even remotely unscathed, and there were far more bad days and nights than good ones to start with. For Jim, the nightmares and waking terrors had gotten worse as his life otherwise stabilised around him, as if the contrast of his waking hours to his sleeping ones was determined to intensify as time went by.

And the less sleep he got during the night, the worse off he was during the day. 

Stars, he wishes he’d never had to learn what an immersive flashback was, let alone what the effects of experiencing them first hand were.

Looking in a mirror, he quickly learnt, was the surest way of causing one.

Jim had never been happy about taking his clothes off around other people, hating the marks littered across his skin like a macabre story book. But before Tarsus, his unease had largely been limited to fear of his peers’ opinions of him, fears of what other people may think and say if they saw him, how they might judge him for a past he couldn’t help. It’s why he’d been able to make himself wear short sleeved tees and shorts down on the colony; he’d known that he would only be there a few months, that it didn’t matter what people thought of the few glimpses they got because he would be leaving and likely never seeing them again.

But after? 

After Tarsus, Jim’s irrational self-loathing is tied deeply to the scars carved into his body.

He does get better over time, as years of dermal regeneration and counselling slowly allow him to accept his body as it is now. But even now, eight years on and with more confidence than he thought was possible to experience, he won’t let anyone other than his family see him without a shirt and long pants on. 

Chris is much the same, especially where his forearms are concerned. Only Jim, Phil, and his own mother ever see the man without a long-sleeved shirt or jacket on now.

Kevin is the most light-hearted of them all, his young mind adapting to his new circumstances and compartmentalising his past with enviable ease. He’s definitely not _unaffected,_ but he’s more able to look back at his experiences and say _it happened and it was awful. But I don’t have to let it dictate my life._

Jim has always been indescribably relieved about that.

* * *

Tavek is the most visibly changed. 

Initially, he’d returned to Vulcan. But he just didn’t fit in anymore. The model student and logical, rational boy were gone and would be forever. His parents were uneasy around him, completely clueless on how to handle his frequent emotional outbursts and refusal to follow the laws of logic beyond what was convenient to him. The Vulcan mind healers had been stumped too, insisting constantly that he calm his mind, accept his emotions and then place them aside even as they slowly came to realise that Tavek was so attached to _feeling_ as a coping method, that to deprive him of it might well drive him clinically insane.

In the end, Spock’s mother had intervened, suggesting that if Tavek needed to feel his emotions to live, then perhaps a human healing programme was more suitable. Ultimately, he’d moved to Earth, settling in with Admiral Stavak, who was willing and able to offer him the middle ground he was so desperately searching for; the balance he craved between experiencing emotions as humans did and applying logic to life like a Vulcan.

Kevin had been thrilled with his relocation to Earth, and had, at age seven, solemnly declared the older Tavek to be his best friend and refused to leave his side since.

* * *

So yes, Jim’s family is odd.

One of ‘Chiro and Aiko’s first decisions upon arriving back at Earth was to move to a bigger house. The ‘Fleet had been having little luck with finding a suitable relative for Kevin to live with, and Chris and Jim had been extremely vocal about their thoughts on the foster system alternative. Before even leaving Starbase 4, Aiko had declared she’d made an executive decision and that Kevin was coming with them too, the system be damned.

But their comfortable little three bed terraced house just wasn’t going to be big enough for all of them.

So before the three of them had finally been released from Starfleet Medical, they’d hunted around and acquired the deeds to an old three story above the sea cliffs to the east of the golden gate bridge. Now with enough space to give each one of their acquired strays _and_ Chris’ parents a bedroom of their own, Aiko had gone to child services and more or less demanded that they let her and ‘Chiro formally adopt Kevin.

Kevin had been thrilled when they presented him with the certificate. 

So to start with, it had been the five of them plus Benjamin and Sophie Pike, holding each other through the night and the tears, never letting the kitchen pantry be anything less than fully stocked, and threatening Federation journalists with the full wrath of Starfleet’s impressive JAG department if they didn’t respect privacy laws.

And then they’d added Tavek too a year later, because why not?

(kind of) (technically he lives in the next neighbourhood with Stavak) (but it’s not like he ever knocks or rings the bell before just walking into the house) (and he sleeps in the bottom bunk in Kevin’s room just as often as he does his own bed so…)

* * *

Jim thinks Ben and Sophie are great. 

Ben is like an older and even more sarcastic Chris, just with tales of horses and lizards and desert farms instead of those of space. Even now, rapidly approaching his twentieth birthday and in his second year of the academy, Jim will happily flop down next to the old man on one of the couches and demand to hear the story of the vulture and the cattle rustler for the billionth time.

Sophie is the kind but firm grandmother that everyone wishes they had. Well, Chris _says_ she’s firm, but Jim’s pretty sure he has her wrapped around his little finger. He only has to so much as _hint_ that he’s interested in something, and the gentle lady is bulldozing through everything and everyone in her way to get it for him.

Their original plan had been to find a small apartment nearby and visit Chris as often as possible. But upon seeing the utterly terrible condition their son was in at Starbase 4, Aiko had taken matters into her own hands again and contrived to convince them that they should all just move in together. Chris has never once complained or even so much as hinted that he feels smothered by their constant presence in his life, simply stating that it’s nice to have so much help with his self-appointed mission of mother henning Jim to death.

* * *

The day that Chris and Phil finally got their shit together and sheepishly emerged from Chris’ bedroom holding hands in the morning, Jim insisted on throwing an extravagant family party. 

Both Jim and Kevin had long adapted to referring to Chris as (one of) their father(s) but watching Phil splutter and go bright red when they started bestowing the title upon him too had been comical. 

“I’m too young to be a father!” He’d bemoaned upon seeing the garishly painted _Mr and Mr Pike_ banner that Jim had pinned above their bedroom door.

“You’re forty-five, ya great lump,” Ben Pike had snorted as he strode on past with an overflowing laundry basket. “Now go and warn that son of mine that his mother is on the prowl with a pair of scissors, so unless he wants to lose his sideburns permanently, he’d best skedaddle to the campus barber post-haste.”

The party that evening had been epic.

* * *

“Jim,” Kevin had whispered to him late one night, creeping into his bedroom on silent feet. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure you can buddy,” Jim had replied, throwing his Padd to one side on his desk, Starfleet Academy application immediately forgotten.

Kevin had stood and shuffled uneasily, wringing his hands and reminding Jim of the terrified six-year-old he’d helped pull out from under a pile of corpses. 

“I don’t want to join Starfleet,” he’d blurted eventually, just as Jim had started to get genuinely concerned. “I know everyone in the family is an officer or wants to be, but I-!”

“Kevin, it’s okay,” Jim had soothed quietly, opening his arms to offer a hug. Kevin had practically fallen against him, tears sliding from his eyes. “You don’t have to. You can do whatever you want to and we’ll still all be proud of you.”

“But how do I tell mom and dad! And other dad! And- and- other other dad! Aw heck Jimmy, our family is ridiculous!” he’d chuckled wetly, letting Jim press his face into his shoulder.

“Our family though Smalls.”

“I’m not small!”

“Are too!”

“You’re small!” 

“If I’m small, then you’re tiny.”

“Jim! You’re the worst, I hate you! And this is stupid! How do I tell everyone that I…?”

“Exactly like you just told me, Tiny. Preferably without the tears and leaving snot on my shirt though. That bit is unnecessary and gross.”

“But what if they-!”

“They won’t,” Jim had cut over him, reassuring. “They’ll be nothing but proud and you know it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yes you do Kev,” Jim sighs sadly. 

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay in here with you for the night?”

“Of course you can. Now go clean your teeth while I find some pyjamas.”

* * *

* * *

Phil climbs down from the stage in his new uniform jacket with a grin brighter than the sun. It had taken him a long time to earn the new rank, having repeatedly refused to go back up into space without Chris.

And Chris wasn’t going anywhere for obvious reasons. 

But earned it finally, he had.

“New rank, new jacket, new position at Medical,” Sophie grins proudly as she hugs the still beaming doctor. She’d had to wait her turn to get her arms around her unofficial son-in-law, but now that she had, Jim didn’t think she was going to let go anytime soon.

“Now all you have to do is convince my son to give you that ring he’s been carrying around everywhere for six months,” Ben grins evilly from next to them.

“Father!” Chris protests loudly, going bright red.

“You’re the one who was foolish enough to ask my advice on gemstones,” Ben shrugs unrepentantly.

“I’m never trusting you again,” Chris moans theatrically, pulling Jim into a headlock in an attempt to stop his hysterical laughter.

(At least that’s what Jim thinks he’s trying to do?)

“Wait. Wait what!?” Phil suddenly gabbles, clearly only just having mentally caught up.

“Fuck you dad, I had a plan,” Chris mumbles. “A good plan, a romantic plan. Mom let him go for a second.”

“This is not happening,” Phil gasps as he watches Chris let go of Jim and then get down on one knee.

“Philip Daniel Boyce, third favourite menace of my life, he of the cold feet, stealer of my clothes, and hoarder of blankets” Chris begins, voice wobbling emotionally despite his nonchalant wording.

“Why am I only third favourite?” Phil interrupts before Chris can continue, sounding scandalised.

“Jim and I, duh,” Kevin answers quickly, trademark eyeroll out in full force.

“Oh yes, fair enough,” Phil then says faintly, his dazed look immediately returning. “Good priorities. Children first, sprogs before horn dogs and all that.”

“Philip Boyce-” Chris tries to continue, shaking hand rummaging inside his jacket.

“Yes!” Phil shouts suddenly grinning like a fool.

Before anyone can react, Phil has dropped to his knees in front of Chris and yanked their mouths together.

“Drinks on me!” Jim declares with a whoop, knowing full well that nearly all San Fran bars serve free drinks to Starfleet members in uniform.

* * *

“Gods, I love him so much,” Chris is slurring, leaning heavily against Jim. 

“That’s ‘cause Phil’s the best,” Jim slurs back, offering Chris the pint glass back. They’re sharing a beer, passing it back and forth between them like they do with most of their food and drink these days. It’s another habit that various therapists and psychiatrists keep trying to break them of, but not one they’ve got much luck of succeeding with. 

On the dance floor before them, an equally drunk Phil is trying to dance with a very confused looking Spock. Jim can feel Spock’s uncertainty in the back of his mind, and clumsily pushes a wave of reassurance towards him. Spock turns to look at him with one eyebrow raised, but all Jim does is grin and wave.

“Tavek’s trying to mine sweep again,” Chris says, jerking his head towards the other side of the bar. Jim follows the vague direction, and eventually spots the teenage Vulcan surreptitiously lifting someone’s almost empty cocktail glass off a low table and then tipping the contents into his mouth.

“Eh, let him,” Jim waves away. “S’not like alcohol ‘as any effect on ‘im.”

“How’d he even get in here?” Chris asks in a concerned sounding voice. “He’s five- fivetee- _fifteen_ and he looks it!”

“Fake ID,” Jim shrugs uncaringly. “Kev’s got one too.”

“KEVIN HAS A FAKE ID!?” Chris shouts rather too loudly, jerking upright and spilling beer over his hand.

“Oops,” Jim says sheepishly. “I think I was ‘sposed to keep that a secret.”

“Hold our beer!” Chris yells, trying to stand up. “I have to go parent!”

* * *

When Jim staggers down the stairs to the kitchen late the next morning, Richard Barnett is sat at the table with ‘Chiro drinking coffee. Jim skips sideways into the laundry room with his heart in his throat and grabs a long-sleeved tee before the visiting Admiral can see him. He thinks the tee is actually Phil’s, but whatever. It’s covering his chest and back and that’s all that matters. 

“Morning,” he sing songs to ‘Chiro once he finally feels ready to be seen. Heading straight for the coffee machine, he grabs a slice of toast from the rack as he passes and bites noisily into it.

“Well you’re unexpectedly chipper,” ‘Chiro grins before he takes another sip from his own mug. “I thought you’d be moping about with a hangover all day.”

“What can I say,” Jim winks, “Spock is one hell of a recovery drug.”

“Cadet Kirk,” Barnett then greets with only a slight frown at the familial banter taking place around him.

“Admiral sir,” Jim salutes sloppily back. “Dad where’s the caramel creamer gone again?”

“Surprisingly enough it’s in the fridge where it belongs,” ‘Chiro deadpans back.

“Putting things away!?” Jim gasps as he slides in his socks over to the refrigerator. “What is this blasphemy!? 

“Jim dear, you’re getting toast crumbs everywhere,” Aiko sighs as she nimbly dodges him, carrying a plate of breakfast biscuits over to the small kitchen table. Having not seen her until now, Jim assumes she just emerged from the pantry. 

“You know if we had a dog, it wouldn’t matter if I dropped crumbs everywhere,” Jim tries slyly. “The crumbs would just get eaten.”

“No,” ‘Chiro and Aiko respond at the same time, just as they do every time the topic is mentioned. 

“Aw you guys are no fun,” Jim false-pouts, sliding back with the bottle now in hand. Shoving the last of his toast into his mouth, he grabs another slice, picks up his now complete coffee and shuffles back towards the hallway. “I left Spock meditating, but I’m gonna go poke him until he pays attention to me. Love you both, bye!”

“Use a condom!” ‘Chiro shouts after him, much to Jim’s eternal embarrassment.

* * *

Jim does indeed poke Spock, both innocently and in the way ‘Chiro implied. 

As they’re laid snuggling afterwards though, Jim becomes aware that he can hear yelling.

“Can you hear that?” he asks Spock anxiously, lifting his head off his boyfriend’s chest. Spock not-frowns and then tips his head towards the door.

“I believe your father is in distress,” he says plainly.

Jim is up and out of the bed and grabbing his clothing in record time.

* * *

“I’m not doing it!” Chris is yelling, panting and furious when Jim stumbles back into the kitchen. “Every time you ask, the answer will always be no!”

“Dad!” Jim yells, skidding towards his distressed parent with tunnel vision. 

“Woah, it’s okay Jim,” Phil soothes, Jim suddenly realising that he’s standing behind Chris with one arm over his shoulder and hooked about his chest. Hastily slowing himself before he actually crashes into the two men, he lets Chris grab him and pull his head down to his chest, feeling Chris glaring over the top of him.

“I’m not saying you have to accept,” someone says, “just that the offer is on the table for you to look at.”

 _Barnett_ Jim realises with a frown. Chris has started double tapping on the back of Jim’s neck, so Jim pulls his hand up to Chris’ waist and taps back.

“I’m not going into space until Jim’s ready to come with me,” Chris spits, pulling Jim against him tighter. “Those are my terms and you know it. It’s both of us or neither of us.”

“It’s an XO position,” Barnett continues, either oblivious to or uncaring about Chris’ obvious distress. “Three-month short tour, just to get your toes back in the water.”

“Both of us, or neither of us,” Chris growls.

“The proposal is on the table, I’ll see myself out.”

“Yes you better had young man,” Sophie barks, storming into the kitchen holding a hairbrush threateningly. ‘Chiro is fast behind her with a similarly displeased expression.

Jim can hear him yelling at his colleague even once they step out into the front garden and the front door hisses shut behind them.

* * *

“I’m sorry Christopher, I didn’t know he was going to do that to you when I invited him in for coffee,” ‘Chiro apologises as he sits across from the still trembling man. They’ve moved to the front room, and Jim is sat between Chris’ legs on the floor, Phil and Sophie bracketing Chris from above. Spock is instructing Ben in the kitchen on how to brew a strain of Vulcan tea purported to be highly soothing, while Kevin is stomping around on the landing upstairs, Aiko with him and trying to calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” Chris rasps. “It wasn’t that he offered, it’s that he wouldn’t stop insisting even after I told him no. Even Komack has more tact than that.”

* * *

* * *

Chris was placed on mandatory long term leave long before his first post-Tarsus psych appointment. All of Starfleet Command accepted right off the bat that he wasn’t going to be leaving Earth for a long time.

They’d insisted he keep his rank and his commission, telling him there was an academy or ground post waiting for him whenever he wanted it, but under no circumstances were they expecting him to take a ship or starbase posting until he personally decided he was ready to do so. 

Chris had said immediately that he wasn’t going anywhere without Jim.

Starfleet Command had collectively shrugged and said okay.

And then reserved Jim a place at the Academy for when he turned eighteen. Chris hadn’t taken that well when he found out two years later, no matter than Jim ultimately ended up applying and being accepted anyway.

* * *

Jim wonders sometimes.

Where Chris’ career might have taken him if he _hadn’t_ had the shittiest luck in the galaxy and been forced to survive a genocide.

For sure, he would have been a Captain at least, probably with several years’ experience commanding constitution class starships. Assuming that he didn’t keep turning down promotions in order to keep his ship, he probably would be an Admiral by now, skipping right over Commodore just like ‘Chiro had.

Jim thinks he would have done though; turned down promotions. In those happy days at the academy before everything went to shit, Chris had talked about exploring the stars with the kind of adoration that Jim is only now beginning to truly understand. That spark that young Jim had seen, the deep-seated love and desire - it’s still there, still flickering away in the man’s heart, but it’s tempered now. Whenever Jim has asked him about it, Chris has always shrugged and said that he has more important things in his life now.

It’s not that Chris is afraid of the stars.

It’s not that he ever stopped wanting to explore their mysteriousness. 

It’s not that he ever stopped _loving them._

It’s just that he loves Jim more.

* * *

Jim was fifteen the first time Chris had put a Starfleet uniform back on. Jim had found him in his bedroom standing in front of the mirror, ashen and shaking, staring at the reflection wearing dress greys. 

Jim had run up to the top floor and grabbed his old oversized instructors’ jacket from the back of his wardrobe before sprinting back downstairs. Shoving his arms into the now too-small sleeves, he’d stepped up behind his closest friend, his father in all but blood and simply said.

“It suits you dad.”

They’d stood there together for a long time, Chris subconsciously tapping Jim’s wrist.

* * *

“I’ve agreed to take a teaching position again,” Chris had announced at dinner two days later. Aiko has always insisted that all evening meals at home were taken at the large dining table in the front of the house; no sitting in front of the holoscreen with plates in laps in this family, no siree (and no sneaking off upstairs either, much to Kevin’s eternal frustration).

“Nice!” ‘Chiro had said simply as he manoeuvred his chopsticks expertly.

“Plebe Tactics only though,” Chris had continued. “At least for now. Not sure I’m up to teaching ethics again yet, which I’d have to incorporate into the syllabus if I took on the older cadets too.”

“Understandable,” Phil had nodded. Even before he’d moved in, he’d spent more nights eating with them than not. “When do you start?”

“When the new academic year starts. They asked if I wanted to help finish this year off first, but no, I’d rather have a clean beginning. New year, new class.”

“Can I come to your lectures dad?” Kevin had asked, looking cross eyed at the noodle he was holding up. “I’m ten now and Jim used to go to your lectures when he was ten!”

“I’ll talk to the academy dean about it over summer,” ‘Chrio had smiled, ruffling Kevin’s hair.

* * *

Jim hadn’t gone back to school until he was fifteen. 

After endless discussions with ‘Chiro and Aiko, he’d eventually asked if he could enrol into the ‘Fleet high school. He hadn’t really needed to go, having done most of his leaving certificate exams while bed bound, and then later, housebound. But Jim had been aware from years of talking to therapists that he was quite socially isolated these days, and he still remembered ‘Chiro and Stavak’s reasons for enrolling him in middle school back- back _before._

They’d said of course he could, if he felt he was ready and that’s what he wanted.

So when he was fifteen, he’d started doing half-days on Mondays and Thursdays at Starfleet Preparatory High. 

He was a lot more used to being away from Chris by then. Co-dependency was not something he gave a damn about but overcoming the separation anxiety _was._ He, Chris and Kevin had all been working on that, slowly learning how to cope with not knowing where the others were at all times of the day and night. It had still been hard though, especially as Chris had started his teaching position at the same time.

(In the early days, it had been bad. Jim had spent more time in Chris’ bed than anywhere else in the house. Kevin would start off in his own bed each night, and also be in Chris’ bed by morning. They’d sat together to watch films, ate meals with their elbows knocking together, hovered outside the door while they took it in turns to use the shower in Chris’ en suite. You rarely saw one of them without the other two less than a stone’s throw away.)

Only some of the kids at the high school remembered Jim, and most of those only because despite strongly considering it, he hadn’t changed his surname. It had been okay though, even though most of the students were wary of his obsession with food, and thought his incredibly strong bond with his little brother was a little odd (you actually like your baby brother Kirk? Weird, mine’s a little shit). 

It had been okay.

It had been what he needed.

* * *

Jim’s relationships with Tommy and Emily are and probably always will be complicated. 

Tommy wears a mask that covers half his face whenever they talk over Vid Comm, and all he ever wants to discuss is the research he’s doing into crop resistance. Jim’s glad that one of them has committed themselves to that cause, but talking about it almost exclusively every time leaves Jim tired and full of stirred up memories he would rather forget entirely. As a consequence, he and Tommy talk less and less as the years slide on by. They don’t lose touch completely, but Tommy’s a man on a single-minded mission and it makes it hard for Jim to connect with him.

Emily is complicated in another way. 

Emily is probably never going to leave the secure psychiatric ward she asks to be admitted to less than a year after they leave Starbase 4. 

They’d drugged her, Emily had told him on one of her more lucid days. They’d drugged her and used her body and her mind had been scarred too physically by the ordeal. She didn’t even remember most of it, but she’d never be able to forget the after effects.

On her less lucid days, it’s like Emily isn’t there at all. It’s like she’s a body where a mind used to reside. 

Jim always picks up when she Comms him, but he stops Comming her first.

* * *

He’s looked. 

And he’s gotten several Admirals to help him look.

He’s enlisted Spock to his cause and used his tenuous and strained connections to the VSA to help him look.

But he’s never found M’lat and B’lat.

The Latvickans had closed ranks around their returned family members, and no matter how much Jim tried, they wouldn’t respond to his pleas for information. 

Jim hopes that one day, M’lat will reach out to him of her own free will.

* * *

* * *

“Christopher, my guy, my one and only, my one I hold so high,” Jim sings slightly off-key as he struts without knocking into his Dad’s office on campus.

“Jim!” Chris shrieks a second later, hastily shoving Phil back and yanking his pants up.

“OH MY GOD!” Jim shrieks back, realising what he’s just walked in on.

He’s turning around and stumbling back out the door before you can blink.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Chris is repeating, as red in the face as Jim’s uniform.

“I suddenly understand how ‘Chiro felt when he caught me with my hands down Spock’s pants,” Jim mumbles into his hands, head bowed low. 

“I’d have locked the door if I knew you were coming,” Chris cringes. “But everyone else knocks or rings the buzzer.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten on my knees _at all_ if we knew you were coming,” Phil groans, his own face inflamed. The doctor is standing leaning on the window, and he tips his head back until it hits the aluminium glass with a dull thunk. “I’m never going to be able to look you in the eyes again!”

“It’s okay,” Jim tries weakly. “We’re all adults here. Committed relationships, full appreciation of the definition of consent. We can pretend it never happened.”

“Jim!” Spock suddenly announces, striding in through the door looking mildly harried, his black instructors’ uniform jacket askew. “I felt your distress and came as soon as I was able.”

“Oh no, it just got worse,” Chris mock sobs.

* * *

“I don’t actually mind,” Jim tells Chris quietly later that night while Ben bullies Phil into helping with the washing up at the other end of the kitchen. “Phil’s your fiancé and you’ve been sleeping together for years. It’s not like I didn’t _know_ you guys were sexually active.”

“Knowing and seeing are not quite the same thing,” Chris mutters, clearly still embarrassed. 

“Eh,” Jim shrugs, “It’s not like I don’t know every other single thing about you. And I’m not the first person in the world to have walked in on their parents. I’ll get over it.”

“I suppose,” Chris sighs, leaning his shoulder against Jim and passing his tumbler of whiskey over absentmindedly. 

Jim sips it appreciatively. 

“New rule though. From now on we knock unless we’re at family yellow alert or higher.”

“Amen to that,” Chris snorts as Jim hands the glass back.

* * *

“You have yet to explain the source of your earlier distress,” Spock inquires calmly as they play a quiet game of 3D chess in Jim’s room.

“I walked in on Phil giving Chris a blowjob,” Jim tells him, pulling a face.

Spock pauses as he goes to place the rook he was in the middle of moving, his eyes flicking up to meet Jim’s.

“I see why you were reluctant to inform me of the details while still in the presence of your parents.”

“Yeah,” Jim huffs self-deprecatingly, “the situation was already awkward enough without having to try and explain it.”

“Indeed,” Spock says simply, finally placing his piece down.

* * *

“You’re looking at me. I can feel you being intense in the back of my head.”

They’ve just finished the game of chess. Spock had beaten Jim by one move and he’d been playing white.

“I am wondering if whether it would be appropriate to offer to attempt to overprint the unfortunate memory of your parents you gained this morning through means of pleasure.”

Jim shoots Spock a look. A mildly concerned look.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks cautiously.

“I propose a shallow mind meld while I pin you down and, as you often phrase it, put my mouth to good use.”

“You kinky bastard,” Jim swears heatedly, already throwing himself out of his chair and towards the bed.

* * *

* * *

Spock arrived at the academy in what, if he were human, Jim would have called a “whirlwind of panic”.

As three years Jim’s senior, his arrival had coincided with Jim’s cautious return to school. Much like his old routine, Jim had decided that he would attend school in the mornings and then sit in whatever Academy lectures or seminars that caught his eye after lunch.

He’d been doing exactly that, just leaving a class on advanced Klingon vocabulary aimed at upperclassman command track cadets when he’d (literally) bumped into the Vulcan.

“James Kirk, I am to remake your acquaintance,” Spock had greeted him with a curious head tilt.

“Spock!?” Jim had gasped back. “What are you doing on Earth? Wait you’re in cadet reds, why have you joined the ‘Fleet!? I thought all Vulcans went to the VSA at eighteen? You _are_ only just eighteen right?”

“I had a disagreement with the application board concerning my admittance,” Spock had answered, sounding faint.

“Are you okay? Only you just sounded like Tavek when you said that and Tavek is about as far from a normal Vulcan as it’s possible to get and not go pre-reform insane.”

“I was called to the hearing as usual,” Spock had continued, staring over Jim’s shoulder. “Only the head of the board saw fit to insult my heritage and refer to my mother as a weakness. So I rather forcefully rejected their offer of a place at the VSA and instead contacted Starfleet.”

“You told the VSA board to fuck off?” Jim had asked with raised eyebrows and an impressed smirk.

“Indeed,” Spock had _mumbled._

“Dude, you are my new hero,” Jim had laughed. “Come on, there’s this new exotic tea café that just opened last week by the Reed department. If you’re anything like Stavak at all, I bet you’re obsessed with tea.”

* * *

Things had progressed from there, Jim quickly becoming one of Spock’s only friends at the Academy despite not technically being _at_ the academy. At least, not to begin with. 

They went for tea together often, swapped academic journals with each other regularly, discussed their varying interests in science and research over lunch most days. Jim reintroduced Spock to Chris and Phil, which led to a standing invite for dinner that Spock actually used (and still does use) on a regular basis. Spock noted Jim’s interest in martial arts and strength training (thank you Kodos, for that minor obsession…) and offered to teach him the basics of Sus Mana. 

And then Jim had been seventeen and come to the sudden and startling realisation that he might like Spock more than just platonically. 

Cue what Chris still laughing refers to as Jim’s “big gay panic”.

It’s not like Jim hadn’t already worked out that his attraction gave zero damns about the gender of the interesting party, but with Spock it felt like his body had gone from zero to one-hundred in less than a nanosecond. Suddenly every innocent friendly interaction they’d shared over the last two years had to re-examined and considered in this new light.

Of course Jim had taken his freak-out to the one person in his life who a) was a male dating another male, and b) Jim could trust with more than just his life. And yeah, Chris had happily sat him down and tried to talk him through it, tried to help him work out what his feelings meant and how he should proceed from there.

But Chris was also Chris; for all he loved Jim with the very fibre of his being and was one of the kindest people Jim had ever met, he’d never stopped also being a sarcastic cheeky bastard with a love for teasing people and laughing while they flailed.

So yeah, Chris is quite happy to tell anyone who asked about Jim’s big gay panic phase.

Jim would hate him if he didn’t love him so much more.

Spock, on the other hand, had merely blinked when Jim had eventually summoned the courage to shyly ask him out on an actual date. 

“Vulcan’s do not reach the age of sexual maturity until approximately nineteen Terran years of age,” he’d said, apropos of nothing.

“Yeeeah?” Jim had drawn out, as spending time with Tavek had meant this was not news to him. “You’re twenty though?”

“But you are not yet eighteen. I cannot therefore date you in clear conscious until you have also surpassed nineteen years of age.”

“Humans are considered adults at eighteen Spock,” Jim had mumbled, embarrassed and possibly heartbroken.

“I concede your point,” Spock had eventually replied with another blink. “I will amend my previous statement. If you are still amenable to the idea, you may invite me on a date after your eighteenth birthday. However, I still will not engage in any physical aspects of a relationship with you until you are nineteen.”

“I’m eighteen in three months,” Jim had gabbled, not knowing what else to say, some hope returning. 

“Then you have three months to consider if you are certain that you wish to proceed. I remind you though, that due to the complex nature of being touch telepaths, most Vulcans bond only once and do so for life.”

“Vulcans are wolves, got it,” Jim had strangled out.

“Negative, our genetics more closely resemble those of Earth felines than Earth canines, though the analogy is little more than just that; an analogy.”

“Vulcans are cats! No wonder you’re so pristine and proper!”

“And much like cats, Jim,” Spock had said solemnly, “We hold ourselves to high standards. Three months. Then you may approach me again.”

* * *

Boy, those had been a long three months.

Especially with Chris teasing him every time he turned around.

* * *

Though to be perfectly honest, Jim had found the following _twelve_ months infinitely more trying for his patience. Spock hadn’t even let Jim hold his hand, for fuck sake!

* * *

* * *

“What all this?” Jim asks as he steps into the dining room with a plate of crackers and cheese balanced on one hand. There are large sheets of paper rolled out all over the table.

“These,” Chris breathes with obvious reverence, “Are the official schematic blueprints for the newly named USS Enterprise NC-1701.”

“No way!” Jim gasps, hurrying over to stand next to Chris. “Which Archivist did you have to murder to get your hands on these?”

“Komack hand delivered them half an hour ago. With a security escort.”

“Wait. What?”

Chris takes the slice of mozzarella that Jim is holding out for him and takes a single bite before handing it back. Jim shoves the rest of it in his mouth without a second thought. 

“Yeah I’m confused too,” Chris mumbles around his mouth full, chewing slowly. “He just showed up on the doorstep and said “Here! You’ll need these!”, gave me the poster tubes, made me sign a document transfer form, and then left with no further explanation. 

“This is seriously cool and all,” Jim intones as he leans over for a closer look, “but why does he think you’ll need them?”

* * *

“Ensign Kirk! I have an assignment for you.”

Jim looks up from the plebe tactical simulation he was grading and blinks owlishly at ‘Chiro, who’s standing at the door to Jim’s office with a serious look on his face.

“Ready and willing to receive Admiral Nogura sir,” he replies with a salute, hyper aware that the other three Ensigns he shares office space with are watching him indiscreetly. 

“I know that Riverside is far from your favourite place Ensign, but you have been selected to accompany a group of high achieving finishing Plebe cadets on a trip to view the Enterprise construction taking place in the construction yards there. You will no doubt be pleased to note that Commander Pike has been selected as the expedition leader. You will report to him promptly to receive further instructions and the official briefing packet.

“Yes sir,” Jim clips out, intensely curious.

* * *

“Hasn’t changed in twelve years at all,” Jim muses as he watches Chris begin to guide the shuttle down towards the Riverside shipyards. “Aside from the bigger, shinier ship being built obviously.”

“She is a beauty,” Chris breathes admiringly as he carefully aligns the lower impulse engine outputs over the landing dock space that been cleared for them. “Flick the external dampener inertials on would you son? I’m getting some kick back from the high winds.”

“On it,” Jim replies, leaning over towards the relevant control panel. 

In no time at all, the shuttle is securely landed and the cadets in the back are unbuckling their harnesses and chattering excitedly.

* * *

It’s their third and final night in Riverside.

For all that they’ve barely ventured out of the shipyards, Jim is still pretty eager to leave and get back home. And not only because this town does not exactly hold pleasant memories for him; the cadets their escorting on this “reward” trip may all be high achievers with perfect grades in their chosen tracks, but some of the are also _total assholes._ One of them in particular, a guy of similar age to Jim that goes by the name of Giotto, has been driving Chris particularly mad for that last half a week. 

“Ughh,” Chris groans once they’ve finally waved the last of the cadets off on liberty. “Can we go for a drink too?”

“You’re piloting tomorrow, so no,” Jim snorts, stepping closer to his father to lean on his shoulder. 

“You’re fully qualified, you can drive,” Chris mumbles as kicks at the beige dust billowing around their boots. 

“If I’m piloting then we still can’t drink,” Jim points out. “Unless of course you’ve suddenly magically developed the ability to _not_ automatically hand me your glass every other sip?”

“Fuck what the therapists think dad,” Chris imitates. “We don’t need to stop being disgustingly co-dependent dad.”

“You’re the one who agreed with me,” Jim snorts.

“How about we go for _one_ pint and then scowl menacingly at the locals for the rest of the night while drinking soda?”

“One pint?” Jim asks. 

“One pint of smooth, dark bitter. Ice cold, frothy top, we drink it down and then we stop!”

“Alright fine,” Jim gives in, “let’s go find out if the Kelvin bar is still open, or if it finally racked up enough health code violations to get shut down.”

* * *

“Cadet!” Jim barks when he finally grows tired of listening to Giotto harassing Uhura. He would have intervened earlier, but the xenolinguist had more than sharp enough a tongue to defend herself just fine and _enjoy it._ “Back off!”

“Aw come on sir,” Giotto tries to wheedle. “I’m not doing any harm!”

“Your harming our genders already shaky reputation is what you’re doing dude,” Jim refutes with a pointed look.

“Amen to that,” Uhura mumbles with a smirk.

“Oh don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it,” Giotto sneers, turning back towards her.

“One more word out of you and you can haul ass back to the bunkhouse,” Jim warns sternly. 

“Sir yes sir,” Giotto drawls unhappily, his tone borderline disrespectful as he finally walks away. 

“Jeez,” Jim sighs, glancing over a Uhura again, “How does he not have more demerits? How did he qualify for this trip at all!?”

“No idea sir,” she snorts, picking up the tray containing her drinks order. “If you ever work it out let me-”

She cuts off as across the room, Giotto punches some random townie square in the nose.

“Fuck my life,” Jim moans dramatically before sliding off his barstool and going to break up the fight.

* * *

“Ow ow!” Jim protests as Chris shoves another napkin up his other nostril. “Dad, I’m _fine!”_

“You’re bleeding all over your uniform,” Chris grunts back before slapping an ice back over the bridge of his nose. “I was gone five minutes, what the actual fuck son?”

“Giotto-”

“Yes I gathered that much.”

 _“Giotto,”_ Jim starts again with a glare, “walked into some dude and ended up with bourbon all down his front. And because he’s a caveman with similarly underdeveloped reasoning and social skills, he punched the guy who was holding the glass.”

“And how did that result in you also getting punched?”

“I came over to break up the fight, which had turned into a four on one-”

“-The townie being the one?”

“Yes! Will you stop interrupting me? Look, Giotto’s little group of hangers on waded into the deluge too, but the guy getting whaled on was putting up a hell of a defence. I got in-between them and ordered the cadets to back off - which they did because they’re idiots but they’re not _suicidal_ ya know? And well, they backed off sure, but the guy was getting beat was still in drunken fight mode and he clocked me in the nose as soon as I turned around to help him up.”

“You got your nose bloodied by a drunken townie? Classic.”

“Yeah well you would know,” Jim grumbles. “Phil will quite happily tell me all about your academy exploits after a few fingers of whiskey.”

“Eh, I was young,” Chris grins. “Now where’d the punch happy townie go?”

“Staggered to the bathroom to clean up while you were outside yelling at everyone. He did say sorry once he calmed down and realised what he’d done. He was quite sweet about it actually.”

“Spock know you have a crush?”

“Spock lives in my head dad,” Jim drawls. “Spock knows everything. In fact, he’s prodding at my quite insistently right now demanding to know why I’m in pain.”

“Fine,” Chris rolls his eyes. “You Comm Spock and reassure him that you’re not dying. I’ll go make sure Townie isn’t haemorrhaging in the gents. You get a name out of him before he staggered off?”

“Yeah,” Jim nods (and winces, because _ow!)._ “Name’s McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they returned to campus with yet another adoptee. And Jim and Chris went on a few short space tours, so that 'Chiro could get away with promoting Chris to Captain finally. And then he was named Captain of the Enterprise, and they all lived happily ever after.
> 
> Fuck Nero, our boys have suffered enough now lol. Let's pretend the Klingon's killed him like, ten years ago. 
> 
> NB: I also skipped over ridiculing the Kobayashi Maru despite that being one of my favourite pastimes, as I doubt Command would have made Jim sit it all considering. It's not like they didn't already have irrefutable proof that he could face down his death and keep calm and controlled anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the Great Purge™, I can still be found on [Tumblr.hell](http://insane-sociopath.tumblr.com/). Come say hi! Or just scream at me! That's also fine!


End file.
